How This Time Will Be Different Part 1 Clana
by ajfinn
Summary: Clark & Lana make confessions that bring their destinies closer. Isobel’s prewitch past is visited through Lana’s dreams, where she discovers what events led to Isobel’s fall, and the mysterious man who stole her heart. Based on end of season 4. 90 chap


Title: Clana – How "This Time" Will be Different  
Author: ajfinn  
Lead Characters: Clark & Lana  
Rating: PG-13

Premise: Based solely on the end of season 4, preceding any season 5 spoilers.  
Short summary: Clark cares for Lana after the meteor storm, and they both make confessions that bring their destinies closer than they could have imagined. Isobel's past is visited through Lana's reoccurring dreams, where she discovers the events that led to Isobel's interest in the stones, and the mysterious man who stole her heart. Primary characters include: Clark, Lana, Isobel, Kal, Marguerite, Chloe, Jimmy, Mr. Olsen, Lex, Jonathan and Martha.

Part 1:

"Are you all right?" Clark asked Lana, carrying her over the threshold of her Talon apartment. "You look like you've just seen a ghost."

Lana shivered in his arms. "Funny you say that, Clark. That's exactly how I feel," she said. "This is the first time I've been back here since . . . well, since before the meteor shower." Lex had told her the mess was taken care of, but to her, the apartment felt no less haunted than three days ago when Isobel murdered Genevieve. Lana's hands still stung from the power of the stone, as though it had seared Genevieve's blood into her skin forever.

Clark had a feeling that what Lana referred to had more to do with the mysterious condition of the element she gave him, than it did the meteor shower. "Let's get you settled, then I'll make some dinner." He set her down on the couch, being as careful as he could with her broken leg.

"You'll make some dinner?" Lana asked, unable to hide her smirk. Clark's ability to calm her always seemed to be a special power he possessed. One among the many she was starting to suspect he had. "Well, in that case I'd like to order cordon bleu, Mr. Kent."

"I was thinking more along the lines of mac and cheese," Clark said, propping up pillows behind her head, and one under her leg. "But I have to warn you that you may wish you were back eating hospital food with my parents."

Lana became serious again, taking his hand. "I'm glad your folks are okay. We were all worried about your dad that first day, but as the doctors told you tonight, his heart's doing much better." Martha had been released from the hospital earlier that evening along with Lana, but insisted on staying with her husband.

With the house a wreck, along with the police investigation surrounding Jason Teague's curious injuries—including a gun shot wound to his shoulder—there was no where to go anyway. But that wasn't the reason Martha suggested Clark stay with Lana tonight, he could've stayed in the loft if he had to. Lana needed someone to care for her, and Chloe was staying with Lois in Metropolis for the next few days. Clark was the only option, and as out of character as it seemed for his mother to suggest such a thing, he'd be the last to complain about it. He needed a situation just like this one to tell Lana what he had to.

After his experiences in the Fortress of Solitude, it was time she knew his secret.

"I still can't believe you made it out of that helicopter alive, Lana," he said, stroking her cheek.

"And I can't believe anyone made it through that day at all," she said, giving him a curious look, then glancing away. She'd been so concerned about him over the past three days, that when he showed up at the hospital tonight, she was so relieved to see him that she didn't care where he'd disappeared to this time. Or did she? The visions she'd had since her tattoo vanished, which seemed to be memories Isobel left behind, were so vivid and real, but made no sense whatsoever. But somehow, after the first vision she had of Clark fighting Isobel, Lana knew the stone she'd been hiding was meant for Clark. But why? And what did he do with it?

After the two of them ate a very sticky variation of macaroni and cheese, and had a surprisingly delicious dessert of peanut butter and bananas—called the Clark Kent special, Lana thanked Clark for dinner and asked a simple question. "Are you tired, or can we talk for a while?"

Having looked at Lana's beautiful face for the past hour—seeing the smile he wondered if he'd ever see again, Clark was feeling anything but tired. "I'm fine," he said. "What do you want to talk about?" It was safe to assume it wouldn't be the weather.

Lana took in a deep breath, knowing what she was about to say might send him out the door. "Clark, the stone I gave you had Genevieve Teague's blood on it," she said. "I, or rather, Isobel killed her with it."

Clark's face turned white, and he swallowed down a lump the size of a boulder. "Lana, it's not your fault. That was my biggest fear since I realized Isobel had the power to inhabit your body," he said, putting his arms around her shaking frame, "that she'd do something awful you'd feel responsible for."

For a time, Clark thought she'd never catch her breath from crying, and he couldn't imagine what she'd gone through the past few days, having no one to talk to. He wished he could take her to the Fortress of Solitude that very moment, so she could feel the peace it offered.

"And there's more, Clark," Lana said, calming her sobs at last. "There's so much more I have to tell you, but I'm afraid you'll think I've absolutely lost my mind." She could not even imagine what Clark's reaction would be when she told him about the spaceship she saw. Surely he would think she'd hit her head in the helicopter accident and had some sort of hallucination.

"Lana, you know I'd never think that of you. I'll believe anything you tell me," he said. "But it's not right that you trust me with your deepest secrets, when I've been hiding my own for so many years."

Lana tilted her head and smiled. "It's okay, Clark," she said. "I don't want you to feel obligated to tell me anything. Whatever secrets you have, and however frustrating they've been at times, I've finally come to the conclusion that they allow you to help people. And that's a good enough explanation for me." Lana could hardly believe the words had left her lips. She knew what she said was true, that it was how she felt, but Clark seemed to be offering a chance for her to at last know the truth. She wanted more than anything to take it, but didn't want tonight to be about forcing him to admit things he wasn't ready to.

"Wow, that wasn't exactly the reaction I expected," Clark said, sitting back on the floor beside the couch. "But if you've grown to trust me that much, then I'm right to assume you're ready to know my secret. And I've waited long enough to tell you. It's a choice I made before I even came here tonight."

Lana nodded, having no words for the long awaited occasion.

"I'm not exactly sure where to start, because the beginning may be the part I'll need to save for the end," Clark said, shaking his head at how stupid that must have sounded. But to start by telling Lana he was from another planet seemed to be too much for anyone to process without being warmed up a bit. Especially when he'd also have to tell her that the meteor shower that killed her parents was sent to Earth to mask his arrival. No, he'd start with something more believable.

"Lana," he said. "I've been at the North Pole for the past three days."

Part 2:

Clark anticipated Lana's shock, but he didn't expect her laughter. "So what are you saying, Clark?" she asked. "You think you're Santa Claus?"

He laughed with her, grateful that the light moment settled his stomach a little. "Actually, that might not be such a bad gig," he said. "But no, you won't be seeing me in a red suit anytime soon."

"Yeah, plaid is more your thing," Lana said. "And sorry, but you don't really have the body for the big guy's job anyway."

Clark squinted one eye. "I think I'll take that as a compliment."

After a time of continued banter, Lana felt a rush of seriousness enter her again. "But, really, Clark," she said. "Where were you? I was worried sick." It never seemed that she stopped worrying about him when he disappeared without a word to anyone, but the past few days felt different. She knew the stone she gave Clark was dangerous, and feared what it might have done to him. Both Genevieve and Isobel had been willing to kill for it. And there was no doubt that it ruined the relationship between she and Jason, something she didn't regret as much as she thought she would, but still felt a sting of bitterness within her. And the stone had turned Lex into a mad man. 

"I'm sorry I worried you," Clark said, bringing Lana's hand up to his lips. "If I'd had any control over what happened I never would have left. Especially not during the meteor shower, but . . . " Okay, Clark told himself, here it is, be a man. " . . . but the truth is that the stone you gave me was only one in a set of three that I was supposed to find a long time ago. And when I put them all together, I was whisked off to the North Pole." Clark stopped and waited for Lana to exhale, her face was turning blue. He was sure his own face matched the lava lamp on Lana's sofa table. "There, I said it. The beginning of it, anyway. Strange, huh?"

Lana blinked at last. "Strange is somewhat relative around here, Clark," she said. "What happened when you got there? And how did you get back to Smallville?"

"You mean you believe me?" Clark asked, standing in surprise.

"Clark, I spent a good portion of my senior year possessed by a revenge-seeking witch who was burned at the stake hundreds of years ago," she said, more serious than intended. "I'm the last person who would doubt the supernatural. Nor the power of the stones."

Well, that was easier than Clark expected. He just hoped her acceptance of things would continue. Being teleported to the North Pole was no big leap, he guessed. But her reaction was sure to be more dramatic when he revealed how he spent last summer—in the Phantom Zone. Yeah, how exactly was he going to explain that without Lana suggesting psycho-therapy?

For now, he'd pretend like he forgot about her questions concerning what happened at the North Pole—anything he said would sound ridiculous right now . . . Well, Lana, I built an enormous ice castle, complete with my own video conferencing system to speak with my dead alien father who still continues to run my life. Oh, and how did I get back to Smallville? Clark couldn't even imagine answering that question—not until Lana was more familiar with his other abilities. And those alone might freak her out enough to stop being curious.

"It's been a pretty crazy year for all of us," Clark said. "But like you told me in the car, Isobel must be gone for good if your tattoo has disappeared."

Lana gave a confident nod. "Ding dong the witch is dead," she said, offering a genuine smile of relief. "But if you can believe it, Clark, being possessed by Isobel was not the strangest thing that happened to me this year."

"What could top that?" Clark asked, doubting that anything more bizarre than Isobel could slip by him.

"I guess it's my turn to offer up another one of my secrets," Lana said, still certain that anything Clark revealed couldn't possibly sound as far-fetched as what she was about to tell him.

"So that's how we're doing things?" Clark asked, kneeling next to her so she'd know she had his full attention. "I have a hunch you might run out of turns before I do."

"We'll see about that," Lana answered, then took a sip of water to wet her mouth that suddenly felt like sandpaper. "Clark, after the helicopter crashed, I saw a huge mound of dirt straight ahead of me, and I thought if I climbed it, I could get a better idea of where I was. But after I dragged myself to the top, I saw a . . . " she couldn't bring herself to say it.

"A what, Lana?" Clark asked, trying to hide his panic. Jor-El had warned Clark that his reluctance to seek out and unite the stones had awakened a great evil from space, and he'd had dreams while he was in the Fortress of Solitude about what form that evil would come in.

"A spaceship," Lana said in a croak. "A spaceship with a hatch—that opened, Clark. And then a light spilled across my face, but I didn't see anything, I just heard a terrifying voice. And then I blacked out."

Clark's suspicions were true. He remained as composed as he could, kissing her cheek to calm her trembling. "What did the voice say, do you remember?"

Lana rubbed the sides of her head, feeling the confusion all over again. "Yes, but it doesn't make any sense," she said. "The voice was strong and clear: Take me to Kal-El."

Part 3:

"I knew you'd think I was crazy," Lana said, responding to Clark's bugged-out eyes and splotchy cheeks. "But please believe me, Clark. You're the only person I can trust."

"It's not that, Lana. I do believe you," he said, at last getting his jaw to recover from it's drop. "And of course you can trust me . . . it's just that the message . . . "

"Message?" Lana asked. "Do you mean what the voice said?"

Clark gave a solemn nod, unsure of how to proceed. "Lana, if the voice had asked you to take him, or whatever it is, to 'Clark Kent,' would you be telling me this right now? Would you still feel the way you do about me, or would it have really freaked you out? I mean—knowing that an alien was searching for me."

Lana was baffled by such an obscure question. "I doubt it would've mattered what the voice said, I was pretty freaked out as it was—after all, I passed out," she said. But Clark wasn't sure she had actually passed out at all. Maybe after she didn't answer, the "it" decided not to bother with her. Something Clark was grateful for. "But of course I'd still love you—we've had bigger things than spaceships come between us. But why would an alien be searching for you, of all people?"

"Because my birth name is Kal-El," Clark said, deciding there was no use holding it back. If things went well, she'd know everything about his origin by morning.

"Kal-El?" Lana whispered, stunned. "But it's probably just a coincidence . . . I mean . . . " Lana knew that was a stupid thing to say, how many guys did she know named Kal-El? Duh.

"No, Lana," Clark said, swallowing. "It's me. I was expecting something like this to happen because I didn't unite the stones soon enough, but I didn't know that the alien, or whatever it is, would even know about me. Obviously, I was wrong." Clark knew his game would have to be stepped up if the alien already knew about him, which meant the dreams he'd been having were actually 'revelations,' just as he suspected they were.

Lana shuddered, looking out the window into the night sky. The very sky she would never look at in the same way again. "Clark, we need to get you out of Smallville," she said, attempting to sit up. "What does it want with you?"

Clark put his hands on Lana's shoulders, easing her back onto the pillow. "I'm not sure, but I can't run away," he said. "Whatever it is it, I can handle it." His confidence was more of an affirmation for himself than for her. Though he only trained in the Fortress of Solitude for three days in human time, Jor-El had told him that he couldn't have learned that much on his own in twenty years. Clark hadn't had a lot of time to practice his new abilities since he returned to Smallville, but he was sure he'd kick some alien butt if it got anywhere near Lana or his parents. He hoped he could, anyway.

Lana got that look on her face that always told Clark she was about to rip him to shreds. Forget aliens, this girl knew exactly how to pulverize him—with a single glance. She was much more a weakness for him than Kryptonite had ever been.

"What are you talking about, Clark!" Lana said, latching onto him. "You may have had your heyday with a couple of meteor freaks, but that's nothing compared to the real thing! You have no idea of the power an actual alien might have! Look at the effect the meteor rocks had on people we knew. Whatever is in that spaceship could kill you! And I'm not going to allow that to happen . . . " she was crying now " . . . so we need to leave. I'll go anywhere with you, Clark, just as long as you'll be safe."

It was time to tell her, but he had to calm her down first. "Lana, look at me," he said, bringing her chin up so she could see the sincerity in his eyes. "The only times I've truly had the courage to tell you how I felt was when we were saying 'goodbye.' But all that will change now—I promised this time would be different. I love you, Lana." Clark kissed her, and she melted in his arms. "See. I'm still here. And I never want to be without you again."

Lana nodded, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. "But how can you protect yourself against an alien, Clark?" she asked, thinking of all the horrifying powers it could have. "For all we know, it could shoot fire from it's eyes."

"Like this?" Clark asked, taking the opportunity to light the row of candles on Lana's coffee table.

Part 4:

"What the hell, Clark?" Lana asked. "That's not funny!" Lana's eyes drifted between Clark and the candles. "How . . . how did you do that?" she asked, finally realizing he didn't have any time to set her up for a joke.

"Like you said, Lana . . . with my eyes," Clark said, barely able to choke the words out. Her own eyes looked like they could shoot fire. He took a chance that she wouldn't recoil when he took her hands, and she didn't. "Look, I know in the past you've thought I might have some sort of special abilities, and I do, quite a few of them actually. But before you totally discount me as an evil meteor freak, think about all the people we've known that have used their powers—whether meteor rock influenced or not—for good."

Lana nodded, her eyes wide in shock. "Like Cyrus, the guy who healed Tyson," she said, thinking back to when Cyrus, who thought he was an alien, healed Whitney's horse.

"Yeah, and of course you remember Ryan . . . he had a special ability that he could have done a lot of damage with, but he didn't," Clark said.

"Ryan?" Lana asked, remembering the young boy that had come into she and Clark's life for a short time then died of a brain tumor. "What ability did he have?"

"He could read minds," Clark said, given confidence by the growing interest in Lana's face. "He warned me about Lex's darker side, and I should have listened to him."

Lana chilled, knowing Ryan was right. She then smiled for the first time in several minutes. "And I could have easily taken Evan in as my own child—even with the problems he had because of the meteor rocks," she said, placing her hand on Clark's face. "Why were you so afraid that I wouldn't accept your secret, Clark?"

"It's complicated," Clark said. "I have my abilities for different reasons than other people do. And every one who has ever discovered them has died, or had to leave Smallville. Obviously, that hasn't been a chance I've been willing to take."

Lana nodded. "Is that why Pete moved?"

"Yes. The feds were interrogating him—tipped off by the Luthors," Clark said. "I'm still not sure which Luthor set them on my trail, but that wasn't the only reason Pete left . . . Lana my secret is a heavy burden to carry, Pete was tortured more than once, and if that happened to you . . . " Clark trailed off, again doubting that he should tell her any more. Shooting fire from his eyes just made him a typical meteor freak, and there was plenty of those to go around. But if he went on, he'd be putting Lana in the same situation that Pete was in.

Lana recognized his hesitation. "Clark, Pete is not the only person who's been tortured because of your secret," she said, making Clark's fears rise closer to the surface. "It's the only thing that's kept you and me apart. Don't you think it's time to stop the agony for both of us?"

Clark gave one of his super-sized smiles, then nodded. "But do you understand now why I've held so much back from you? It had nothing to do with not trusting you, I just didn't want you to get hurt. And I still don't, so this is a big leap of faith for me. But, Lana, I can't let my secret stand between us anymore, I've waited too long to be happy."

"So that's one of your other abilities, is it?" Lana asked, tilting her head to the side. "Patience?"

"No, I think you're the only one with that special power," he said. "Trust me, I've made up my mind to tell you at least a dozen times—only to chicken out. Patience didn't have a thing to do with it."

Lana smiled, unable to resist her mounting curiosity. "So, Superboy, what else can you do?"

Clark shook his head and laughed. "What? Shooting fire from my eyes isn't enough for you?" he asked. "Women these days . . . you can never please 'em."

"C'mon, Clark, you don't really expect me to believe you've only used fire to fight off Smallville's villains," she said, giving him a soft kiss to butter him up. "I've always liked a good talent show. Get on up there and strut your stuff." Lana motioned for Clark to stand.

"Umm, Lana, I'm not really the table-dancing type," he said, trying to resist. This wasn't exactly how he'd imagined this moment, but he had to admit, it might be fun to show off. "But as long as you're not freaked out by the fire, one of the strangest of my abilities . . . "

"Every girl hopes for a superhero, Clark," she said. "And with or without powers, I've always known you were mine."

"All right, then," Clark said, standing and loosening himself up, just to make it seem more dramatic.

Lana laughed at him. "Okay, NOW you're freaking me out! Don't get all rock star on me or anything."

He gave her a smirk. "Wanna see what three days in the arctic will do to a guy like me?" He picked up Lana's glass and blew on it softly . . . turning the water into a block of ice.

Part 5:

"Cool!" Lana said, making Clark laugh at her word choice. "You know, you might be handy this summer. My air-conditioning isn't working."

"Well, if you don't mind, I'll be hanging around through the winter as well," he said. "I don't get to use my heat vision nearly as much as I'd like to."

Lana smiled. "I wouldn't mind that at all," she said. "But somehow, I never pictured you as the answer to my high utility bills."

"I hate to disappoint you, but I don't have a single spark of electricity in me," Clark said. "But I did get struck by lightning once."

Lana's face went grim. "When?" she asked. "Why didn't I know about that? You must have really been hurt."

Clark shook his head. "I hardly felt a thing," he said, suddenly feeling awkward. He put his hands in his pockets to appear more humble. "It was nothing compared to being thrown in a blast furnace."

Lana sat up, her eyes squinting. "Clark, how could you walk away from things like that?"

Clark scanned the room for something dangerous, but of little value. "I'll show you," he said, noticing she had two fire pokers for her wood stove. He picked one up and walked back over to Lana, taking his boot and sock off. "I'm pretty much unbreakable." Clark lifted the fire poker in the air and rammed it through his foot—or at least that's what Lana thought happened when she let out a high-pitched scream.

"Lana, look," Clark said, trying to pry her fingers off her eyes. "Nothing happened."

She gave a quick glance at Clark's uninjured foot, then noticed the shattered pieces of iron all around him—breathing a sigh of relief. "Then you ARE bulletproof, just like Van told me you were." Lana thought back to when Van McNulty took it upon himself to assassinate everyone in Smallville who had meteor rock induced powers. She remembered how much she hoped Van was right, that Clark was invulnerable—that nothing could ever hurt him. "Do you have any idea how comforting that is for me?"

Clark went back to his knees and took Lana's hand. "I was pretty lucky with Van, actually," he said. He didn't want to hide any part of his secret from her, even if it took away her sense of security. "He found a way to kill me and nearly succeeded."

"But I just saw what you did to your foot—how did Van manage to hurt you?" Lana asked, grabbing Clark's shoulders. Thinking about Van trying to kill Clark made Lana want to summon Isobel back to give Van a taste of what the witch is brewin'. Though she was glad Isobel had disappeared, Lana wished she still had her butt-kicking capabilities.

"I said, I'm 'pretty much' unbreakable," Clark said, feeling this was a good time to talk about the dreadful green stuff. "I'm deathly allergic to meteor rocks, and when Van figured that out, he melted some down to make bullets."

Lana looked confused. "Allergic? To the green and black rocks?" she asked. "But they're everywhere!"

"Tell me about it," Clark said. "I've had more close calls than I can count."

Lana's eyes suddenly widened and she gasped. "But my necklace! I wore it all the time around you. Why didn't you tell me?"

Clark shrugged with a smile. "That pretty much says how desperate I was to be with you, doesn't it?"

"I'm so sorry," Lana said, giving Clark a kiss that made up for every pain he ever felt from her necklace.

Clark gave a fake pout when she stopped. "Yeah, it was pretty awful—" Lana knew what he wanted, and for a minute, they both forgot all about the meteor rocks.

"Let's see," Clark said. "What else can I tell Lana that will drum up some sympathy—oh, wait, did I just say that out loud?"

Lana punched his arm. "I don't care if that doesn't hurt you," she said, shaking her hand. "Don't mess with me."

"I wouldn't dare," Clark said, bringing her throbbing hand to his lips. "There's only one thing that gives me weaker knees than meteor rocks."

"What's that?" she asked, smiling.

"You."

Lana suspected he'd say that. When had he ever failed to turn her inside out? "And YOU," she said, touching his nose, "are a very big flirt."

"Yeah, I'm pretty much whooped," Clark said. "I don't think Lex needs to fly in one of his 'best psychologists in the country' to figure that out."

"No, I don't believe I'll be needing any more of Dr. Phil's help," Lana said, shaking her head. "Not now that you've finally found the courage to tell me yourself. And it means a lot that you've shared your secret with me, Clark. Is there anything else I should know?"

Clark's eyes snapped up to meet hers—they'd drifted down to her lips again. "Lana, I hate to say this. But I've only just scratched the surface."

He thought Lana would give a tired nod, like she was done for the night. But instead, she perked up and smiled. "Well, then . . . bring it on!"

Part 6:

Clark touched Lana's soft cheek. It was about the hundredth time in the past few hours that he couldn't believe they were being this open with each other. It wasn't just telling her his secret that made him feel so in awe though, it was that there was a comfort level that had never been there before. A new sense of trust, like he could share anything with her—especially the rest of his life.

"Lana, are you sure you're not too tired?" Clark asked. "It's got to be midnight by now." Clark turned and looked at the clock hanging on the wall behind him. "11:50—I was pretty close."

When Clark turned back to Lana she had a look of amusement on her face. "I'm surprised you had to turn around to check. Can't you see through the back of your head?"

"Very funny," Clark said, returning her smirk. "But you're not far off."

"Go on," Lana said, now knowing that anything could be possible.

Clark thought that if anything did, this trick might make her a bit queasy. "Did you see the x-rays of your leg?"

"Yes," Lana said with curiosity. "Why? Can you heal people like Cyrus did?"

Clark shook his head. "No, but I sure wish I could. If that were the case, I wouldn't have allowed you to go through as much pain as you have. Not now, not before with your leg . . . never. I would've revealed my secret long ago if I could have saved you from any of that."

Lana gave a soft smile, knowing that Clark has saved her from more pain than she could even guess. "Of course you would have. I don't know why I even asked."

"Well, you've had plenty of reasons to doubt me in the past, which I hope to explain later tonight, but for now," Clark moved Lana's leg that was closest to him out of the way so he could get a good look at the one that was broken. "Let's see if the docs did a good job fixing up your leg."

Clark squinted hard, scanning between Lana's knee and her ankle. "Owwww," he said. "That must've really hurt."

"How can you tell?" Lana asked, trying not to jump to the crazy conclusion she was imagining. She'd test him just to make sure. "Where is it broken?"

"Here, and here," Clark said, pointing in two different locations. "But they are pretty clean breaks—better than the last time when the horse stomped on you." He knew, because he'd snuck in the hospital room when she was sleeping and x-rayed her. He didn't think he'd ever get over the guilt he felt because of what happened to Lana when he'd left her with Lex in the horse stables.

Lana's jaw dropped. "No way."

"Yes way," he said, matching her cheerleader tone. "I can see through almost anything—but I have to be concentrating to do it. It's not like I just walk around with five dimensional vision."

"Nor see through clothing, I hope," Lana said, embarrassed for even thinking about it. Of course he'd never do that.

Clark gave a sheepish grin. "If I wanted to," he said, then backtracked, "well, not that I don't want to, I mean I'm not exactly a typical guy, but when it comes to that, well . . . I think I'm as normal as they come." She was still looking at him funny. "Lana, what I'm trying to say is that I prefer to leave some things up to my imagination."

That didn't help, and Lana started laughing. "Then that does indeed put you on par with other guys."

Clark had his burning face buried in his hands. "Okay, can we talk about something else now?"

Lana kissed the top of his head. "Don't worry, Clark," she said. "I trust you. If you could read minds, you'd know I have an active imagination too."

"You know," Clark said, looking back up with a smile. "That's the one ability I've really tried to develop. I've spent hours concentrating on you, just to see if it would spark some sort of mind reading capabilities."

Lana gave Clark an expression of mock pity. "You poor guy, is that why you spend so much time staring at me?" She was joking, but she regretted saying it because she never wanted him to feel stupid about the way he looks at her. It gives her chills every time.

"Umm, no," Clark answered. "That would be the solitary fault of your face—it's like some sort of magnet for my eyes."

Lana felt a warmth move through her, as though a teapot of water had been poured into her soul. "It's so good to hear you say things like that. For the longest time, I thought you'd never have those feelings for me again," she said. "Even though I was with Jason, I never stopped loving you, Clark. I just wanted so bad for us to stop hurting one another, that when I went to Paris I . . . well, I think the technical definition for what I did is 'rebound'."

It hurt Clark to hear her talk about Jason, but he'd always hoped that's all he was to her. And he didn't blame her for that, he'd rebounded a few times himself. "That's the same for me, Lana. I've never loved anyone but you. I tried—especially with Alicia, but no one could ever take your place in my life. You're too much a part of me."

Lana looked down when Clark mentioned Alicia's name. "Clark, I feel horrible for how I acted when Alicia was released," she said, her voice becoming tight. "I was . . . I was just so jealous that you put her well-being in front of mine . . . I know it was stupid, and selfish, and about a million other words that describe immaturity . . . but when she died, I felt awful. I just couldn't bring myself to tell you that, not after how I'd acted."

Clark now understood how twisted his relationship with Alicia had been, and how he was attracted to her for only one reason—she knew and accepted his secret. He was feeling so jealous himself at that time because of Jason and Lana, that he would've fallen for a homicidal maniac—oh, wait . . . that was exactly what he did.

"Lana, I need to explain what happened with Alicia," Clark said, "Then maybe we can both move past it." Clark went on to admit his own jealousy and sense of frustration at the thought of being alone for the rest of his life. He told her how Alicia first discovered his secret and how she played off that to make him feel accepted. Then he said, "And Lana, there's something else you should know about the meteor rocks. They come in different colors. And red, well, it makes me . . . "

Part 7:

"Let me guess what red meteor rock does to you," Lana said, shaking her head like she should have suspected that's what influenced Clark to run off to Vegas. "It makes you act like a mad man—do things you'd never normally do."

Clark was stunned. "How . . . how could you possibly know that?"

"Chloe knows too," Lana said. "I mean, we've never been sure, but when you came back from Metropolis, we started putting a few pieces of the puzzle that is Clark Kent together."

"And?" Clark asked, still taken aback by this revelation.

"And Chloe happened to mention how weird it was that you wore a Smallville class ring, which she knew was made out of red meteor rock, the entire time you were in Metropolis—even though you didn't want anyone to know who you were or where you were from," Lana said, shivering as she remembered what a horrible time in her life that was. "When she said that, I remembered the first time you got your class ring was when you went all psycho on your dad's motorcycle and started wearing leather, and took me to that bar . . . you were an entirely different person, which is exactly how you acted when I found you in Metropolis."

"Metropolis was such a nightmare, I don't even know where to begin to say how awful I feel about that," Clark said. "But before I explain my reason for putting on that class ring when I knew it was bad for me, I need to tell you about Alicia."

"All right," Lana said, not really sure she wanted to hear it. She was so afraid of what he might say, her hands started to tremble, and Clark put them against his chest.

"Lana, both my friends who discovered my secret—Alicia and Pete, drugged me with red meteor rocks," he said, making Lana's eyes bug out. "I'm sure you're surprised that Pete did it, but it was when he was infected by one of the cave worms, and he slipped a red rock in my shirt. That's the night you caught me kissing Chloe. It was so stupid, and the most horrible part about it was that I couldn't explain anything to you. And neither Pete or Chloe could remember what they did . . . it was hell for me."

Lana could feel the pain pounding in his chest. She wished she could take back every moment she had ever doubted Clark. "I'm so sorry I've jumped to so many conclusions. I really should have known better."

"No. I mean, how could you have ever guessed that?" he asked. "And with Alicia it was even worse. I was willing to give her a second chance, as stupid as I was, but when I refused to leave the state with her, she made a necklace with red meteor rocks hidden in it and teleported us to Vegas. But the wedding wasn't even legal—neither one of us were old enough."

Lana dropped her hands, this was the part she was nervous about.

"And don't worry, nothing happened on our so-called sham of a wedding night," Clark said. "She took the necklace off me, thinking I'd want to be with her just the same—but she was dead wrong."

Lana couldn't believe what she was hearing. Here Clark had all these amazing abilities, and still, there were some things he couldn't even protect himself from. "Nothing happened between Jason and I either, no matter what anyone else has assumed," Lana said, glad she finally had the chance to tell Clark that. "I knew I didn't love him enough to be with him for the rest of my life."

Clark gave a relieved smile. "I'm not going to lie and say I didn't think of it as a possibility, but I'm also not surprised," he said. "I know you, Lana. I know that you don't take relationships lightly, and that when you love someone, it's for the right reasons. And that's also how you make your decisions—based on a lot of thought of how it might affect your future."

Lana felt such peace in that moment, confirming once and for all that she had made the right decision. She thought of all she would have wasted—and for what? A man who turned on her the moment her feelings started to fade. "Thanks for having such confidence in me, Clark." She kissed him. "Some things are very much worth waiting for."

Clark could not help but think how much he loved this girl. And though he was insanely attracted to Lana, he'd always managed to keep his cool with her. There was just so much more to his feelings for her that it drove respect and patience in him. She was his soul mate in ever respect. No matter the physical, or emotional distances that had come between them, their souls had always felt close. Whatever the future held for the two of them, though he knew exactly how he'd like the story to go, he knew he and Lana would always have that—a sense of connection no one could ever take from them.

Lana snapped Clark out of his musings with a funny side note to their serious conversation. "It's too bad our first kiss was red meteor rock induced," she said, laughing. "And I had no clue—standing there in the Talon, completely swept off my feet, like you'd finally decided to take your chance with me!"

Clark gave a careful smile, not sure if he should reveal the truth. "Uh, Lana, that wasn't our first kiss."

"Yes it was," Lana said. "You must not remember everything you do when under the influence of red meteor rocks. Because, trust me, it was a very nice kiss."

"I usually call it Red-K, but I'll explain that later," Clark said. "And actually, I DO remember everything. I wanted to come back for more after I was back to normal, but I'd messed things up pretty badly by then."

"Yeah you did," she said. "But I totally understand now—but that was definitely our first kiss."

Clark shook his head. "Nope. Do you remember when you were poisoned by the Nicodemus flower?"

Lana's face turned the color of Red-K itself. "Shut up! I didn't!"

"Oh, you did more than just kiss me, Lana," he said, ignoring her pleas to twist the truth. "You stripped down to almost nothing and tried to get me into the pool with you." Lana covered her face with a pillow. "Don't worry, I turned you down for the first and only time. I knew something was going on—but I have to admit . . . "

"Just stop!" Lana said, smacking him in the face with the pillow. "Why don't you show me some more of your tricks—pull a rabbit out of your hat, or something." She still couldn't look at him.

"I wouldn't know where to find a rabbit at this hour," he said, kissing both sides of her face, "but I bet I could round up a Nicodemus flower or two."

Lana couldn't stop giggling from embarrassment. "No, I think I deserve a whole BOUQUET of flowers for that load of BS you just told me."

"You're right," Clark said. "Iris or Roses?"

Lana tipped her head to the side, waiting for the punch line. "Iris," she said. And before she could blink, Clark was gone. "Clark? Where did you . . . " and then, her apartment door suddenly flew open, and there was Clark, standing over the threshold with an armful of iris.

Part 8:

"You can teleport?" Lana asked, accepting the bouquet Clark brought over to her. "How charming." This gave her a strange sense of disappointment, thinking that Clark had the same ability as Alicia did. No wonder they understood one another so well. Being possessed by Isobel helped Lana relate to how difficult it was to have a secret that controlled her life, but she knew she could never fully understand how it felt to be so different—as Alicia did.

"No," Clark said, surprised by Lana's pale face. He always seemed to mess something up every time he gave her flowers. "I can just move really fast."

Lana's smile returned. "Oh, that's better," she said, leaving Clark to wonder what she meant. "I mean, that explains why you've always been just in time to save everyone—especially me." She was still tripping on her words, trying to put thoughts of Alicia aside.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Clark whispered, sitting on the floor again and taking her hand. "I didn't mean to scare you—I know it's a little much. But that's one of my oldest abilities, and I'm so used to it that I didn't realize it would be that big of a deal for you."

Lana shook her head. "No, it's not that. I just thought you teleported, and that, umm, well, it just made me feel kind of weird for a minute."

Clark understood without any more explanation. Former flames would be off limits for a while. Too much had happened, and though they'd talked a little about it, it was just going to take time to get over the awkwardness caused by the serious relationships they'd both had this past year.

"The cool thing is that I'm getting faster every day," Clark said, trying to lighten the mood. "I can get to Metropolis and back in less than ten minutes now."

"You're joking," Lana said. "That's faster than flying."

Well, he hadn't tried flying to Metropolis yet, so he couldn't confirm that. "Yeah, I guess it probably is quicker than the Luthor Corporate jet," he said. "I go through shoes pretty fast, though. It drives my mom crazy."

Lana laughed. "So that's what it is! Chloe and I always joke how you seem to have a bigger obsession with new shoes than either one of us!"

"That's me, all right. So if you ever need a friend to go shoe shopping with," he said, shaking his head in disbelief, "call Clark Kent—the 'queer eye for the straight girl' guy. Doesn't exactly go with my farm boy image, does it?"

"Don't think I won't take you up on that offer," Lana said, attempting a firm response. "I could really use you at those after-Christmas sales. I'm never through the doors fast enough to get the best deals."

Clark gave her a sarcastic nod. "Yeah, I guess it's about time I start putting my talents to use."

"Well, I'm sure your speed at least helps with your chores," she said, imagining him zipping around the Kent farm. "No wonder you manage to have so much spare time."

"And my strength doesn't hurt," he said, taking the opportunity to slip that in.

"Your strength?" Lana asked. She couldn't believe she hadn't asked about it. That was the one ability she'd been suspecting for years now. Lana saw him take on three guys at a time once, and walk away as though he'd done nothing more than toss a few hay bails.

Clark picked up a broken piece of iron from the fire poker he'd earlier demolished and pinched it between his thumbs and forefingers—flattening it down and stretching it out to the thickness of a dime. "My strength is increasing with age as well," he said. "It's the first ability I had."

Lana was amazed. "I was sure you could out bench press any guy at Smallville High, but . . . wow, that's really cool." Lana took the flattened iron from Clark, feelings its warmth in her hand. "How strong are we talking here, Clark?"

"I'm not exactly sure," he said. "I've never found anything I couldn't lift, as long as I could balance it."

Lana tipped her head, not really in disbelief, but Clark's claim seemed a bit out there.

Clark was somewhat glad to see her skepticism. It's not everyday that he had a chance like this. And he'd imagined proving his abilities to Lana for so long that he didn't want to leave a less-than-stellar impression. "Okay, watch out the window."

Before Lana could even respond, Clark super-sped out the door, leaving Lana in a gasp at how fast he disappeared. "That boy will definitely come in handy when I run out of milk." Lana turned to look out the window, tingles going down her spine at the thought of having Clark involved in every aspect of her life—even grocery shopping.

Lana shifted on the couch so she could get a better view of Clark through the window. He was standing on the far side of her Jeep, waving. Lana jolted. "He better not do what I think he's going to," she said out loud. Though she was now aware that Clark couldn't easily be hurt, the thought of him . . . "I knew it," Lana said, again speaking to herself. Clark bent down and lifted the Jeep above his head. Though it was dark outside, the dim street lights gave her enough of a view that she could see the haughty smirk on his face—like a seven-year-old boy strutting across the playground after a triumphant fist fight. She loved seeing this new side of Clark, unafraid to show what he was capable of.

Since Clark seemed to be perfectly content to stay under the car forever, she reached over the back of the couch and opened the window. "Hey, Mr. Universe," she said. "Why don't you come back in and do something useful for me?"

Clark gave her a mock pout. "But I'm just getting to the good part."

Lana tipped her head, waiting. Clark took one of his hands off the bottom of the car, then bent all but one finger, balancing the Jeep like it was a basketball. 

"What a show off!" Lana shouted to him, laughing as she watched Clark carefully lower her Jeep to the ground, then super-speed away. She loved the blur—so cool. This made a thought pop in her head that she asked the moment he reappeared in her apartment. "Weren't you afraid someone else would see you doing that?"

"Normally, yes," Clark said. "But I also have super-hearing that I can turn on at will—so I was listening for approaching footsteps and cars."

Lana nodded, trying to be serious. "Super-hearing, huh?" she asked. "Do you have super-taste buds as well. And super-smell?"

"Sorry, Lana. I don't think I'll ever measure up to your expectations," Clark said, starting to tickle her. "But I do have super-touch."

Lana thought to tell him she always knew he was a "sense-itive" guy, but she wasn't able to catch her breath long enough to say it. She couldn't believe how cheesy they were being. They'd had a lot of fun together before, but so much of their relationship was ridden with bouts of confusion and angst that this felt like a whole new experience.

Clark suddenly thought of Lana's leg that she hadn't complained at all about—despite her thrashing around on the couch as he teased her. He stopped and held her against him. "Sorry, do you want me to x-ray your leg again and see if I've just broken it in a dozen more places?"

Lana smiled, remembering why she had told him to stop fooling around with the car and come back to the apartment. "No need," she said. "But I would appreciate it if you'd push the play button on my stereo."

"All right," Clark said, standing with a look of curiosity. He walked to the other side of the room and did as she asked.

"Now, turn off the light and dance with me," Lana said, looking up at Clark as though they'd just met. Everything about him seemed so fresh tonight.

The music started and Clark flipped off the light switch and went back to Lana. He scooped her up, cradling her in his arms. Lana leaned her head against Clark's shoulder and felt more peace than she ever had in all her life.

"Is this some kind of mix?" Clark asked when the second song started to play, which was not by Lifehouse like the first song.

"It's my 'Clana' mix," Lana said, feeling somewhat embarrassed. "Volume 3."

"Clana?" he asked, then finally got it. "Oh . . . what do you mean, volume 3? How many volumes are there?"

Lana dug her face deeper into Clark's chest. "Ten," she said, knowing how stupid it must have sounded. "That's how many cd's it took to burn all the songs that reminded me of you."

While they danced for the next hour, Clark couldn't stop smiling.

Part 9:

"We should've danced like this at the Spring Formal," Lana said, still comfy as Clark cradled her in his arms, dancing to "You and Me," by Lifehouse. "I'm sure people would've stared, but oh well."

"Fine with me," Clark said. "The only person's opinion I care about is yours."

Lana gave a slow nod. "Not even Chloe's?" She'd been thinking about her for the past few minutes, frustrated that she always had to feel guilty after being with Clark. He had never returned Chloe's feelings, yet Chloe always acted like Lana stole Clark from her. What was with that? Lana knew Clark long before she did.

Clark knew Chloe would somehow work her way into the evening. Not that he had any negative feelings for her—especially after what happened with the stone at Lex's house. But it never failed—whenever Lana and he would finally work things out and decide to be together, Chloe's feelings always had to become a factor.

"Lana, Chloe is someone who is very important to both of us, and the last person we'd ever want to hurt," he said, turning the music down. "But we can't hold back any longer because of how she feels. Once she moves to Metropolis, I really think she'll see how crazy it's been to hold on to something that was never possible." He walked back to the couch and sat with Lana still in his arms.

"Why me, Clark?" Lana asked, having thought of the question countless times before. "Chloe is amazing. She has the world in her hands—she's capable of accomplishing anything she wants to. And she's brilliant, and beautiful, and . . . "

"And not Lana Lang," Clark said, sweeping hair out of her face. "Who happens to be the girl I fell in love with at the age of five and have never been able to shake from my head."

"I thought you were cute too, you know," Lana said. "Even way back then."

"Then, there you go. We were meant to be together," Clark said, kissing Lana's cheek. "And Chloe just has to come to that conclusion on her own. I've tried to talk to her about it so many times, I've run out of breath. And it takes a lot to do that to me."

Lana could definitely relate. "It's hard to explain why you fall in love," she said, weaving her fingers in and out of Clark's. "Love is picky, and there's very little you can do about it."

"I'm living proof of that," Clark said. "This past year, I don't think either one of us were ourselves, but I still couldn't give up on you. You're all I see when I look into my future." Clark suspected he may have to start envisioning other things in his future as well—but he really wasn't in the mood to think about fighting aliens and continuous hordes of mutants.

Lana sat up, looking into Clark's eyes that had the reflection of four candle flames dancing in them. "Clark, I really wasn't myself, and I mean that in more ways than one," she said, feeling guilt stab at her. "I'm so sorry for the way I treated you—the way I acted like you didn't mean anything to me—because it was far from the truth. But even though Isobel didn't often show herself to others, I always felt her with me. She was like some sort of cancer, eating at my insides. I was selfish, and bitter, and mistrusting—even of you, which made no sense at all."

"It makes perfect sense, Lana," Clark said. "Isobel saw me use my powers against her, and she knew I was after the stones as well. So her hatred must've seeped through without you knowing why."

Rubbing the goose bumps off her arms, Lana said, "I'm starting to think she left some of her memories behind with me. While I was in the hospital, I kept having visions—like flashbacks, of you two fighting. Of course it didn't make any sense until tonight, but it still terrifies me, Clark . . . Did I, I mean, she, really throw you around like that?"

"No, of course not," he said, trying not to smile. "I've never had my butt kicked by a girl—especially not a sissy like Isobel."

Lana smiled, glad he didn't hold any sort of resentment toward her for channeling someone who wanted to kill him. Though she doubted that was a common problem couples faced, she was sure Clark took it better than another guy would. She couldn't imagine how strange it must have been to fight for his life against the girl he'd been in love with for thirteen years. "Yeah, let's just pretend that's how it went," she said. "But seriously, how was Isobel able to hurt you?"

"With magic," he said. "Besides Kryptonite, it's the only other Achilles' heel I have. So far, anyway."

"Krypto-what?" Lana asked.

Clark cleared his throat, not believing he'd slipped like that. "Umm, Kryptonite," he said, his voice tight. "It's the name I gave to the meteor rocks."

Lana scrunched up her face. "Why? Any special meaning behind it?"

Clark suddenly felt the need to stand up and run.

"Hey, why all the squirming," she asked, putting her hand on his cheek to calm him. "I can always tell when you're nervous about something." When Clark didn't respond, a deep disappointment set in. Not because he didn't answer right away, but because he seemed to be back to not trusting that she could handle the truth. "Clark, you do not have to tell me anything until you're ready—and I realize that day may never come, but I want you to know that everything I've seen tonight has only strengthened my love for you. I now realize why you've had to leave in the middle of our dates, or not show up at all . . . and why you've had to lie so much. It was all to protect not only me, but everyone else as well. Smallville would be a war zone if it wasn't for you. You've taken out every evil meteor freak that crossed our path. I can't even imagine how awful life would be if Tina Greer was still walking around, or the phycho-tatoo guys, or . . . " Lana ticked off a list of villains who used Smallville as their own personal comic book. "You're a hero, Clark. And knowing your secret only makes me more understanding and supportive. Despite my previous performance, I'm now mature enough to be there for you . . . No matter what challenges we face, we'll face them together."

Clark would've wiped his eyes, but Lana did it for him. It's not like he had tears streaming down his cheeks, or anything, but they definitely would've been there if he'd allowed them to be. "Thanks for believing in me, Lana. I can't tell you what a relief it is that you've reacted so well," he said, his breath becoming shallow. "But the things I've revealed to you so far are only my unique abilities—not my secret."

Lana's jaw dropped and she shut it quickly, hoping he didn't notice. "There's more?" He'd broken just about every law of common sense, reality, and science tonight. How could there be MORE? "Whatever it is, Clark, if you're ready to tell me, I'm ready to hear it. Nothing could change how I feel about you."

Clark had to put away every thought of reason to believe that. He placed his hand on the back of Lana's head and brought her ear to his chest. "Lana, listen to my heart for a minute, does it sound any different than anyone else's?"

She didn't know his intentions, but she listened carefully. "No, it sounds perfectly normal. Why?"

"We'll get there," Clark said. He then took her hand and moved it down his face. "As you've probably noticed more times than I'd like you to, I grow stubble at the same rate as any other guy, right? . . . And I have to eat and sleep to survive . . . I have the same emotions as regular people, I've had to learn from studying . . . " Clark continued, pointing out everything that made him almost as normal as everyone else. "And besides the fact that my skin is as strong as steel and my muscles are super-charged . . . my body is physiologically identical . . . not only have I discovered this in the guy's locker room, but I've x-rayed my body, and it has every identical organ and bone we learned about in Anatomy."

Lana nodded, thinking that may be true, but somehow, he managed to be twice as hot as any other guy, and twice as selfless and considerate as well. Which definitely took him out of the 'normal' category anyway, so where was he going with all this?

Clark kissed her, hoping it would not be for the last time. He then took a deep breath and looked her straight in the eyes. "Lana, what I'm saying is that despite my abilities, I'm human in every aspect except for one . . . I happened to be born on a different planet."

Part 10:

Lana blinked once then stared at Clark. "Another planet, as in Mars?"

"No," Clark said. "As in Krypton."

"Uhh," she said, looking away. "Uhh . . . " In all Lana's imagining of what Clark's secret was, she'd never even come close to this. What was her response supposed to be, she wondered . . . that's great, Clark, I've always wanted an alien for a boyfriend?

Clark's heart was pounding so hard in his chest he thought it would burst right through—skin of steel, or not. "Lana, I'll, umm . . . give you some time to think about that." He started to move her off his lap, so he could super-speed to where he felt like being right then—under a big dense rock.

"No, don't leave," Lana said, keeping her grip on him. "I just need . . . well, a moment to process this . . ." She sat still again, then after a moment said in befuddlement, "Krypton?"

He gave one sturdy nod. "Krypton," he said, never imagining a two-syllable word could be so difficult to utter. The fact that Lana didn't want him to leave was a good sign. For the first time, he was glad she'd seen the spaceship three days earlier—otherwise he was sure she wouldn't be taking him seriously. And Clark didn't feel like laughing about it—his origin was anything but a joke. It was more similar to a curse.

After a few minutes of staring at everything in the room but each other, Lana exhaled. "Where the hell is Krypton?" she asked in a confused tone. "And how did you get here . . . and when . . . and—" Lana closed her eyes tight, attempting to stop the inevitable. "Clark, I'm trying really hard not freak out here, but . . ."

Clark saw Lana's trembling hands, but he didn't dare touch them. "You can freak out if you want, I sure did when I found out—and I still do. On a daily basis, in fact," he said, trying to find a better way of explaining things than what was coming to him. "I mean, I've always felt kind of alienated, but—"

"That's a really bad joke, Clark," Lana said, swatting him. But at least it made her smile.

They were both out of words again, until Clark remembered her questions. "Krypton doesn't exist any longer—but I was sent away before it exploded," he said, knowing his story was becoming more implausible by the second. "My parents found me in a cornfield, next to . . . well, my spaceship.

"Your spaceship?" she asked, wishing she could believe the answer to this absurdity was that Clark had lost his mind, but she now knew better than that. "What did your parents do with it?"

This would be the most believable part of the story—the only part that might make sense to her. "They hid it in the storm cellar, and I didn't know anything about it until I started high school," he said. "And then, when my past began to catch up to me . . . I blew it up."

Lana's face registered true comprehension for the first time in several minutes. "The day of Lex's wedding . . . that's what happened?" she asked, remembering how she found him in the deep pit of ruins where the Kent's storm cellar once was. "But, Clark, why then? Everything in your life seemed to be going perfect . . . and we were finally together . . . and then you just left—leaving everyone that loved you behind. All that was because of a spaceship that no one else even knew about?"

Clark shook his head. "No, that's not all it was. The first night we really kissed, when you brought that birthday cake to my loft, the ship . . . well, it called out to me after you left," he said. "And when I went down into the cellar—my biological father spoke to me for the first time."

"I didn't even know you'd met him . . . wait," she paused, processing what Clark just said, "he must be from Krypton too, so where's he been all these years? And what about your biological mother?"

"They both died on Krypton," he said, trying to move forward before she could ask how his biological father could still speak to him. "But some sort of life form of him still lives. I really haven't figured it out yet—I don't know if I ever will."

Lana couldn't believe she was buying into this, but what other choice did she have? Clark had lied to her before, but this was too crazy of a story to even make up. "What did he say to you?" she asked.

"He's said plenty, actually. Much more than I've ever cared to hear," Clark said, just noticing that Lana had taken his hand—making warm chills spill over him. "But that first night, he told me it was time to leave Smallville—that I was ready to fulfill my destiny and that if I didn't leave right then, I would hurt everyone I loved."

Lana's eyes widened in shock. "So you blew up the ship so he couldn't take you away?"

Clark nodded. "I wasn't exactly sure how he planned to take me, all I knew was that I wasn't going," he said. "But the next day when I told him to go back to hell—or wherever he was residing, he branded my chest and used it to control me—and that's when I blew up the ship, hoping the whole nightmare would go away . . . but my resistance only made things worse, just as he promised it would."

"Your mom lost the baby that day," Lana whispered. "And you thought it was your fault, didn't you?"

"That's because it was," Clark said, emotions entering him that he buried long ago. "And my father despised me for it—just the way he looked at me said he wished they'd never found me."

"Clark, that can't possibly be true," Lana said, putting her hand on his cheek. "He was just in shock. In a moment of grief, everyone responds differently than they'd like to."

"Yeah, I know that now," he said, melting under her warm touch. "But right then, all I could think of was getting out of Smallville so no one else would get hurt—including you—and the only way I could get myself to leave was to put on that red kryptonite ring."

Lana shivered. Clark had waded through some deep water in his life, and she felt horrible that she didn't know how difficult things were for him. "I wish I would've gone with you."

"No, I'm glad you didn't," he said, recalling his surreal days of pillaging whatever source of money he came across. "As you remember, I wasn't myself . . . when I think about what I did, Lana, I can't even believe it was me."

"It wasn't," Lana said. "It was someone else who possessed your soul to do their own will—just as Isobel did to me."

Clark looked away, still unable to forgive himself.

She moved his attention back to her. "Clark, if you expect me to believe I'm not responsible for what Isobel did when she was in my body, then you have to give yourself the same allowance," she said. "If you can still love me after what I did to you—all the times I've turned my back and given you cause to give up on me—then I can, and I do, love every part of you—your past, your present and your future self."

"Even though I'm an alien?" Clark said, giving her a smirk he hoped would come across as charming.

"You're not an alien," she said, laughing. "You're just not an Earthling, and quite frankly, I haven't been too impressed with many of those in my life."

Clark smiled, kissing her until he started laughing too. "But, Lana, I've been changing more every year—what if I suddenly grow extra eyes, or something?"

That was an easy comeback for Lana. "Your eyes are so gorgeous, I wouldn't mind if you had four of them."

"What about six, or twelve—you've seen those outer space movies," he said.

"The more the merrier," Lana said, deciding she could truly handle every possibility, as long as she never had to be without him again.

Clark felt like he was going to explode from relief and contentment . . . that was until he remembered something—he still had to tell Lana why her parents were dead.

Part 11:

Clark didn't have it in him tonight to tell Lana he was responsible for her parent's death. Everything felt all too perfect, and if they could both live with that myth for just one more day, then he was sure he'd have to courage to tell her.

Lana snuggled into Clark, it was past 3 AM and as much as she didn't want to, she drifted into a pleasant, dreamless sleep. She didn't have to dream tonight, she was perfectly happy with the reality of her life.

When Clark noticed Lana had drifted off, he carried her to her bed and tucked her under the covers, being careful not to wake her. He stepped back, then stayed there for several minutes, looking at her face and wondering how he came to be where he was. Lana knew everything now—well, almost everything, and she accepted the truth much better than he ever imagined. Why hadn't he told her earlier? Perhaps it would've changed a lot of what had happened to keep them apart. But he was determined to move forward now and not dwell on previous heartaches.

He took an extra pillow from Lana's bed and grabbed a small blanket—which would cover no more than half of him, from one of her chairs. But it's not as if he expected to get cold—he'd just spent three days in the arctic without a single chill. There were advantages to being an alien, he thought, laughing to himself. He had a feeling he might be able to joke about it more often now. After removing his shirt, Clark scrunched up on Lana's couch and finally fell asleep.

Clark's first conscious thought in the morning was, "I don't dare open my eyes." He was afraid he'd wake to find last night hadn't really happened, that he still had to tell Lana about his abilities and origin.

A soft tapping on the apartment door forced him to get off the couch before the visitor woke Lana. Walking across the room, he looked over to see her still in bed—which stopped him in his tracks. Her hair was fanned across the pillow and she looked like a portrait of the purest beauty. He began to walk toward her to get a closer look, when more knocking reminded him what he was doing.

Clark unlatched the lock and turned the doorknob, remembering that his mother said she would stop by the next day to see how Lana was doing. When he opened the door, however, he saw the startled face of Chloe, her eyes bugged out as she looked at his bare chest.

"Oh, hey, Chloe," Clark said, stepping out on the landing and shutting the door behind him. "I thought you were in Metropolis."

"Yeah, it's pretty obvious you weren't expecting me," she said.

Clark realized for the first time that he was standing there half-naked. "Is it lunchtime already?" he asked, noticing the Subway bag in Chloe's hand. "We, uhh, kinda slept in I guess."

She shoved the bag into his stomach, the chips crunching. "Give this to Lana—I was SO worried about her being alone . . . but apparently she's having all her needs met by her boy wonder—as always." She paused to gesture to his body. "And apparently she's fulfilling your needs as well. Sorry I interrupted your 'we're adults now' marathon date." She flipped her head and made her way toward the stairs.

Clark was tempted to let the conversation die right there, but he couldn't. "You know, Chloe, for a reporter you sure jump to a lot of conclusions," he said, watching her stomp down the steps. "It's not like I'm standing here in my boxers. And why do I have to be in never ending guilt mode over being in love with someone who came into my life long before you did? I have enough in my life to feel guilty about."

She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and whipped around to him. "Like lying to me? Like turning your back on someone who would do anything to protect your secret—even risk her life and become a prime target for a Luthor family heat-seeking missile?"

Clark didn't know how to respond to that, other than what came by habit with girls. "Uhh." He would've added the line 'what are you talking about, Chloe?' but knew she was sick to death of it.

Chloe rolled her eyes and made her way through the Talon, which was still closed from the meteor shower like almost everything else in town. "I'd tell you to give me a call when you decided to move on with your life, but I'm tired of wasting my breath."

By some divine miracle, Clark decided it was time to admit what Chloe already knew. He super-sped down to her and blocked her way out of the Talon. "Okay, I'm moving on, are you satisfied?"

Chloe stepped back, shocked that he'd stopped being such a chicken, but still ticked. "I'm not just talking about admitting your abilities, Clark," she said. "I've put up with the love-sick puppy routine long enough—don't you think it's time to end your obsession and be with someone you're meant to be with?"

"You took the words right out of my mouth," Clark said, surprising himself that he actually dared say what he'd wanted to for so long.

Chloe's face flushed and she couldn't move.

"Look, Chloe," Clark said, reaching out for her, but she backed further away. "It kills me to say that, because you're the best friend I've ever had. But that's what you are to me—a friend. And as much as I wish I had the power to duplicate myself, it's not one of my abilities—not yet at least."

"Clark, if you could duplicate yourself, then Lana would have TWO Clark Kent's to go ga ga over her," she said, trying to fight back tears.

He nodded. "You're probably right," he said. "But that has nothing to do with you, Chloe—you're amazing, you're beautiful . . . I love to be with you, but I can't just turn my feelings for Lana on and off at will. And I really wish this issue would stop coming between us—all of us. I can't choose between you."

Chloe knew if she forced him to choose, he'd be opening the Talon door and escorting her out of his life. And she couldn't blame him for it—he was right, she needed to get over the love-sick puppy routine much more than she did. She and Clark had never even dated—well, technically, they went on one date, over three years ago that lasted for a whole two hours.

Letting out one of her nervous 'don't worry about me' laughs, Chloe said, "Looks like I'm the one who needs to move on."

"Just don't leave me behind, okay?" he said, pulling her into an embrace whether she wanted him to or not.

With her face against Clark's bare chest, she stayed there as long as she could without looking stupid. "Now, how is it that your skin can't feel fire, but you have to remove your shirt to sleep?"

Clark laughed. "Don't even get me started with how uncomfortable it was to sleep on a couch that's a full foot smaller than me, with completely buttoned jeans on." Clark let go of her and made his way behind the Talon counter, hoping to find something to eat. "And, yeah, about my abilities—"

"Don't worry, Clark," Chloe said, taking a seat at a table. "I'll never expose your secret. I've kept it this long haven't I? Which, believe me, is quite a feat for a reporter with the hottest story of the century."

Clark stopped chewing the stale muffin in his mouth, curious just how much she knew about him. "Lots of people around here know about meteor freaks, Chloe. What would make my story any different?"

"Because we both know you're not a meteor freak," she said.

Part 12:

"I'm not?" Clark asked, raising his brows. "Then what am I if I'm not a meteor freak?"

"You're a mystery," Chloe said. "At least for now. I'm still trying to figure it out—perhaps you could help me—if you're ready to, I mean."

Clark left the Talon counter and joined her at one of the tables. He sat there for a minute, tapping his fingers, and staring at her until the right words came. "Tell me what you know, and if it's right, I'll tell you as much as I'm comfortable with."

Chloe tipped her head with a suspicious look. "Which would mean pretty much nothing," she said. "But I'll take what I can get."

"Look, Chloe. I have two true friends in this world—you and Lana," he said. "And since both of you know about my abilities, it's just as well you know where they came from."

"Lana knows?" Chloe asked, feeling a deep pain shoot through her. It was the one thing she had over Lana. "Did you tell her, or did she discover your secret like I did?"

"I told her," Clark said. "Last night."

"Everything?"

"Yes," he answered. "And I would've eventually told you too, but I really felt I needed to tell Lana first—and I know what you're going to say about that, and I'm sorry—but you're right."

Chloe swallowed down a knot of emotion. "I'm not going to say it doesn't bother me," she said. "I just need to get used to the fact that you two are really together now."

Clark nodded, trying hard to hide a smile. "Yeah, we are," he said. "But that doesn't change how much you mean to me, Chloe. Nothing could."

"Well, anyway," Chloe said, trying to change the subject so she'd stop making a fool of herself. "About your abilities—my first clue that you were different than a typical meteor freak was your allergy to our favorite green rocks. Everyone else we've seen has GAINED power from the rocks, but they take all your power away—why is that?"

Chloe had gone straight for the jugular, and he'd promised to be honest. "Geez, Chloe," he said, standing up and wishing he had a shirt on so he could pull it up over his head. "Journalism is definitely a perfect profession for you. You've pretty much asked me the most difficult question you could have."

She sat back in the chair and folded her arms with a sense of satisfaction she wished she didn't feel. She'd been patient these past few months while she knew his secret, but as long as he was in the mood to fess up—she was going for it. "Then let me drop this bomb on you too—I saw you disappear into thin air in the cave the other day. And it was different than when you do your speedy-thing—there was a burst of light that filled the whole cave, then when I saw you—it looked like you were holding something that shocked you like lightning then you literally broke into particles and were sucked through a spinning funnel like it was a vacuum. I've seen you do some amazing things, Clark, but I have to admit—that freaked me out a bit."

Clark faced her with a look of alarm. "You saw that?"

Chloe nodded. "And if it wasn't for some crazy-ninja quick thinking, Lex would've seen it too."

"Lex was in the cave?" he asked, going to her and putting his hand on her shoulder. "Did he hurt you? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine for now—he only left a few bruises," she said, "but trust me, he came out on the losing side—I slammed him up against the cave wall and probably left him with a bump the size of Texas."

Clark ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "I'm so sorry, I didn't want you to get mixed up in all this. Has he bothered you since?"

"Not yet," she said, trying not to rub it in that Clark owes her one—but then, how many times had Clark saved her life already? "After you disappeared, he ran into the empty room and I took off, and haven't heard from him since."

"Chloe if he so much as calls you, you better tell me," Clark said. "Lex has really changed this past year, and I don't see any signs of him going back to the guy I once called a friend." Clark felt a bitter stab from his own words—it killed him to think of the evil he saw emerging in Lex.

"Yeah, that's looking doubtful," she said. "He's after you, Clark. You need to be careful. He was ranting on about a stone—which I assumed was what you had in your hand after you ripped his vault door off. And then he just went nuts when we got to the cave. He saw the light like I did, but I'm pretty certain he didn't see anything else."

Clark sat back in the chair next to Chloe and took her hands. "Thanks, Chloe. I don't even know where to begin to tell you how much I appreciate what you did," he said. "But I need you to promise that you'll stay out of it."

"But what is this all about? Lex acted like there was more than one stone—he even thought Lana had one," Chloe said. "What on Earth would make him think that?"

"Because I did have one of the stones," came Lana's voice from the stairs. Clark & Chloe both turned, but didn't see her. "Can I get some help here?" she asked with a brief laugh. "I think I already wore a hole in my pants from scooting across the floor."

Clark went to the stairs and saw Lana sitting at the top of them. He would've super-sped to get her, but that would just be showing off. "Hey, good morning," he said when he reached her, whispering so Chloe couldn't hear. "You still want to talk to me after last night?"

"More than ever," she said, kissing him softly—glad that Chloe couldn't see as far as the landing. "I was just worried when I didn't see you . . . then I heard you two talking and well—I eavesdropped. Sorry."

"So, do I have to come up there, or what?" Chloe asked.

Clark carried Lana down the stairs. "No, I think Lana could use some change of scenery."

Lana whispered in Clark's ear before they reached Chloe. "It looks like Chloe's had a better view than even I got last night," she said, running her hand down Clark's bare back.

"Uhh, yeah," he said, embarrassed that he forgot about that. "I didn't want to wake you, and I answered the door this way."

He set Lana down in a chair next to Chloe and said, "I'll be right back . . . " and in an instant he was standing there again with his shirt already on.

Lana gave a quick shake of her head. "That is definitely going to take some getting used to."

Chloe smiled. "Considering what makes his eyes shoot fire, I'm sure you've witnessed that as well."

Clark's face turned red. "Umm, Chloe. Lana doesn't really need to know about that little detail of my heat vision," he said. "And I don't even want to guess how you found out."

Chloe winked at Lana with a playful grin. "We'll talk," she whispered.

"That's just great," Clark said. "It's not like I can't control it now—so it doesn't even matter." He sat down and put his face in his hands.

"Yeah, it looks like it doesn't matter," Lana said, patting his back in mock sympathy. She then turned to Chloe. "So, tell me. How did you find out about Clark's abilities?"

Chloe straightened up, not sure Clark was ready to know that Alicia had betrayed him.

Part 13:

"Well, asking me how I discovered Clark's powers is a more complicated question than it sounds," Chloe said. "Kind of like the question I asked Clark that he still hasn't answered about the meteor rocks."

Clark lifted his head from hiding. "Uhh, you go first."

Lana was looking between the two of them, amused by what she must have missed earlier. She was also somewhat relieved that Chloe didn't seem to know about Clark's origin—not only did that say that Clark hadn't confided in Chloe before he did herself, but Lana was also worried about Chloe's natural journalistic instincts. She imagined the headline: My Friend, the Gorgeous Alien.

"Whatever," Chloe said, rolling her eyes. "But you've got to promise not to hate the messenger—I really wasn't planning on ever telling you this. It's going to sting more than you know." She had both Clark and Lana's undivided attention. "Clark, I already have a feeling you knew Alicia was aware of your abilities, but what you may not know is that . . . "

The look of pity on Chloe's face made Clark stand from the chair. "What?" he asked, though he was sure he already knew.

"She betrayed your secret, Clark," Chloe answered. "The night she died."

"What—she just walked up to you and said, 'Hey, guess what, Chloe—Clark can lift tractors and run faster than a jet.' Is that what she did?" Clark sat back down and felt like pounding the table to slivers.

Chloe and Lana stared at each other, not knowing what to do. Chloe waited until Clark calmed and lifted his gaze to her again. "Alicia teleported me into her car, then staged an accident. Just before we hit the jump, she removed us from danger and gave me a front row seat to see you catch her car mid-air."

Clark closed his eyes, his head dropping to his chest. "That's what her prank call was all about," he said. "Even though she was mad at me for not believing her innocence, I . . . I can't believe she did that!"

Lana knew she should've felt somewhat satisfied that Clark's memory of Alicia had been further tainted, but that's not at all how she was feeling. She wrapped one arm around him and leaned her head on his shoulder, saying nothing.

Chloe hated to see them like that, but she needed to. She needed to see how much Lana truly loved him, and as she saw agony on not only Clark's face, but Lana's as well—aching for him, she knew they belonged together.

"I'm sorry, Clark," Chloe said, leaning across the table and gripping one of his hands. "It was one of the most frightening moments of my life . . . I mean, I knew there was something special about you, so I shouldn't have been so shocked . . . but then, you sped off like a bullet and I seriously couldn't sleep for days."

It was the opposite for Lana. She had slept more soundly last night than she had in a long time—finally feeling comfortable with who Clark was and why he had done the things he'd done in the past. It all made sense to her, and she felt absolutely content this morning—she had even stopped thinking about Genevieve's murder.

"I can actually run FASTER than a bullet, and catch them in my hand," he said. "If you want to be technical about it. Which probably makes me the strangest wack job on the planet."

"No, Clark," Lana said. "That makes you the most amazing HERO on the planet. I'd be dead ten times over if it weren't for you."

"Probably more like twenty," Chloe said. "But who's counting?"

Lana smirked at Chloe. "Don't remind him," she said. "I hate it when he thinks I'm helpless."

"Yeah, the helpless little girl who wiped the floor with my face in China," Clark said, smiling at last. "But you didn't finish your explanation, Chloe, what else do you know about me?"

"Well, when you lost your memory, I followed you around to make sure you didn't do anything crazy when others could see," she said. "And that's how I got an eye full. It was like the superhero version of American Idol—and you definitely earned my vote."

Clark nodded. "And you've earned my confidence, Chloe," he said. "Thanks for protecting my secret. I know it's not the easiest thing to keep a lid on—especially for a reporter."

Both Chloe and Lana spoke at the same time, then Lana motioned for Chloe to go first. "I know that what Alicia did scares you, but if you remember, I've had the opportunity to betray you before—even when my life was threatened, and I've never said a thing. No amount of momentary fame could replace our friendship."

"I know that," Clark said.

"And, Clark, I—" Lana started.

"I know, Lana," he said, having a heavy feeling of guilt move through him. She shouldn't make any promises without knowing the extent of what his arrival in Smallville had cost her. He hoped it wouldn't make a difference, and he was sure she'd understand, but he still had to find the right moment to tell her. "My secret is safe with both of you."

After a few moments of smiles and talking about what meteor rock powers each one of them wished they had—Chloe at last said. "Well, I need to get back to Metropolis. I'm interning at the Daily Planet again this summer."

"Good for you," both Clark and Lana said.

"Oh, here's your lunch," Chloe said, handing over the Subway bag. "Sorry about the chips."

Lana smiled. "Thanks, I'm starving."

Clark hit his hand on his head. "I forgot about Shelby—my mom asked me to feed him this morning."

Chloe said her goodbyes, and left. As soon as she walked out the door, Lana grabbed Clark and pulled him to her lips. "Don't you dare let me catch you shirtless with another woman again."

Clark was completely lost in Lana-land for the next ten minutes. "I think I better go feed Shelby before I start setting things on fire," he said. "That would be twice for the Talon."

Lana pulled back from him, squinting. "Is that what happened that mysterious night of the spontaneous fires?"

Clark gave a big grin. "Guilty," he said. "It was when I first gained the ability and all you had to do to set me off, was smile."

"Good to know," Lana said. "Remind me to buy a few more fire extinguishers."

Clark started carrying her up the stairs to her apartment. "While I'm out, I'll stop by the hospital to see if they have a set of crutches for you yet." Lana gave a pout, and Clark responded with, "Don't worry, I'll still carry you around—with or without a broken leg."

After he'd set her down on the couch, he kissed her and took her keys so he could lock both doors from the outside.

Lana picked up a magazine and started to thumb through it, but everything seemed so trivial compared to the last few days. Just as she found an interesting article in Time magazine about cross-breeding species, a knock on the door startled her.

"Who is it?" she called, but there was no reply. There were very few people who had a key the Talon. "Hello? Who's there?" She heard a key inserted into the lock, and the knob turned, sending Lana's heart to her throat.

"Where's the stone, Lana?" Lex asked, standing in the doorway, dressed all in black.

Part 14:

This was usually when Lana would think to stand up and plant a round kick across Lex's face, but in her current condition, she was stuck on the couch. "Lex, I told you that I no longer have the stone," she said, trying to sound calm, but failing miserably. Lex was not there to talk things through.

Lex stepped in and shut the door behind him. "Who did you give it to?"

"I threw it into Crater Lake," Lana said, looking him straight in the eyes.

"You're lying," he said, grabbing her by the jaw and making her tremble as he stared down at her. "Tell me where it is!"

Lana felt a surprising sense of pity. "Lex, what's happened to you?" she asked, changing her demeanor.

He dropped his hand, noticing the red indents he'd left on her. "Life in general has happened to me, Lana. I'm a product of my experiences, and I'm tired of everyone lying to me!"

"No, you're upset that for once in your life you can't BUY what you want," she said. "But I can't help you."

Lex reached into his suit jacket and Lana cringed. But instead of a gun, he pulled out a section of newspaper and dropped it into her lap. "Then perhaps, Lana, it's time that I stop helping YOU."

Lana unfolded the paper and read the circled article that was below a picture of a completely annihilated car. "Genevieve Teague, the wife of a Metropolis business tycoon, was one of the victims claimed by Smallville's second meteor shower. Her body was discovered in her desolated car on Main Street . . . " Lana looked up to Lex, knowing she should thank him, but something different came out of her mouth. "Are you blackmailing me, Lex? Because if you think I'm going to sit here in my snug little apartment and watch my life unravel—you're wrong! Don't think for one moment that I won't tell Sheriff Adams that you talked me into leaving the scene of a murder—which was self-defense! Don't think that I won't tell her that you and your interfering father cleaned up all the evidence—without even consulting me. I was in shock, Lex. And you took advantage of me for your own selfish purposes."

Lex took a step back without realizing it. "I told you—you'll never get off on self-defense," he said. "And I was concerned for your safety during the meteor shower."

"That's BS and you know it!" Lana said. "You put me on that helicopter at the last minute. You didn't care what happened to me as long as you got your stupid stone!"

"That's not true," Lex said calmly, trying to play the nice guy card. "You know my feelings for you have changed."

Lana laughed at him. "In what alternate universe would I EVER be attracted to a lying, backstabbing, poor excuse for a man like you?" she said. "You've turned into a monster!"

Lex felt a dark evil bubbling through his skin. "I haven't even begun to release the monster within me, Lana," he said, gripping her lamp and hurling it across the room, where it shattered.

Clark was outside the Talon door and heard the crash. He super-sped to the apartment door and threw it open. "Get away from her, Lex!" he said, taking up the entire doorway with his wide stance. "Or I'll confirm every suspicion you ever had of me!"

Expecting that Clark might become a problem, Lex turned his refurbished ring around, exposing a green stone—something he'd been saving for a special occasion just like this one. "Oh, you've already done that," he said, holding out his hand and approaching Clark. "It's funny, but if you'd visited me more recently, you'd know I just installed security cameras in my study—just in time for you to make an interesting appearance!"

Lana was terrified as she watched Clark drop to the floor, her arms started feeling as though they were on fire—hot, with shooting spikes of pain. She grasped everything she could and started throwing it at Lex.

"You owe me an indestructible vault door!" Lex shouted, pulling a gun from his jacket and pointing it down at Clark. "And THREE ancient artifacts!"

Lana bolted from the couch—dragging her leg, and hell-bent on doing anything she could. Her arms were burning so much worse now, she could barely keep herself up.

Lex grabbed Lana and threw her back on the couch. "Stay where you are, or I'll kill him!"

Clark tried to grab for Lex's leg, but Lex mocked him, moving his feet back and forth while he waved the gun. "C'mon, you super-powered freak! Tell me where the stones are or you can blow Lana her last goodbye kiss."

Clark was becoming weaker by the moment, his head dropping to the floor as he watched Lana sobbing with fear. Lana's hands started to shake harder and faster, then she stretched out a burning arm . . . and in a single instant, Lex's gun flew across the room and Lana gripped it—pointing it strait at Lex.

Lex turned in shock. "Well, hello, Isobel," he said.

"Wrong," Lana said, her voice filled with venom. "Get out before I show you what other tricks my dearly-departed ancestor left behind."

Lex fell to his knees and held the Kryptonite ring right against Clark's heart. "Drop the gun, or I swear I'll—"

Lana extended her other hand and Lex's arm straightened—the ring flying off his finger, leaving it burning with heat. "I said, GET OUT!" Lana screamed, clutching the ring.

Part 15:

Lana threw the ring as far as she could and it landed in a corner of her apartment.

Lex had seen what Isobel could do, and whether Lana was still channeling her or not, he wasn't going to stick around to find out. He scowled down at Clark and said, "Your girlfriend won't always be around to protect you," then stepped over him and left.

Clark was regaining strength, but remained on the floor in shock. If Isobel was back, why was she helping him? But he was sure it wasn't Isobel—Lana didn't get that evil look on her face he always saw when Isobel appeared.

Lana's hands trembled as she set the gun on the side table and fell to the floor, scooting over to Clark. "Are you all right?" she asked, attempting to stop her tears.

He could not stop gawking at her.

"Clark, I . . . " she started shaking her hands like she was trying to get something sticky off them. "I want it out of me." She rubbed them on her pants, starting to become hysterical.

"What is it, Lana?" Clark asked, sitting up and looking at her hands. "What do you want out of you?"

"The magic," she said. "I've been feeling it ever since Isobel left, but that's the first time anything happened." She rubbed her arms that tingled and ached from the surge going through them. "Is the tattoo back? . . . check . . . hurry . . . " Lana talked in panicked spurts.

Clark lifted the back of her shirt. "No tattoo," he said, relieved, but still so confused that he didn't know how to react. "Thanks for, umm, wow . . . that was . . . uhh . . . surreal."

They were still sitting on the floor, and Lana's nerves weren't calming in the least. "Hey, it's all right. You're okay, Lana," he said, taking her in his arms.

"No, I'm not," she said, still trembling. "I want everything about Isobel gone."

Clark shut the apartment door and turned the lock—bolting it this time. He carried her over and sat on the couch with her on his lap. She settled down after a time, and he asked what he couldn't help but wonder. "What do you think happened? How did you do that?"

She looked up into his eyes that still seemed somewhat mistrusting. "Clark, I swear that it's me. I know it sounds weird, but it's true."

"Weird?" Clark asked. "Lana, you're talking to the guy who just admitted he's an alien."

Lana wanted to smile, but she couldn't get her face muscles to move. "Then, this will hopefully not sound as strange as I thought it would, but I think I FORCED Isobel out of me when she killed Genevieve," she said. "It was the first time I'd felt even remotely conscious when she overtook me, and when I realized she was going to kill Genevieve, I started fighting against her—willing myself back into controlling my body. Then at last, it felt like I'd burst a huge bubble and forced her to leave—but it was too late, she'd already—"

"Okay, okay, shhhh," Clark said, bringing Lana's head to rest against him as she started shaking again. "We'll figure this out. Don't worry."

"The only thing that makes sense is that I pushed her out so fast that she was partially left behind—and not just her magic either," Lana said.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you remember when I said that I'd been having flashbacks of you and Isobel fighting?" Lana asked. "Well, that's not all the memories I have of hers. Little by little, more of her life is seeping into my conscious. Other than last night, when I didn't dream at all, the visions have been getting increasingly more real. And there's only one explanation for that—she left her memories behind."

Clark phrased things as gently as he could. "Do you think she may have done it on purpose—thinking that you'd continue her quest for the stones?"

Lana looked up with wide eyes. "I hadn't thought of that. What if it's true? What if she also left her insatiable desire to find those stones at any cost?"

"There's two reasons you don't have to worry about that, Lana," Clark said. "The first is that whatever Isobel managed to leave behind, it didn't include her black heart."

"How do you know?" Lana asked.

"Because when I've seen Isobel in you before—it may have looked like your body, but there was always something different about your soul—your countenance, I guess might be a better way of putting it," he answered. "You looked so different and dark that it was hard for me to even look at you."

"But I felt that way all year, Clark," she said. "I felt her evil driving me to selfishness and greed—as I told you earlier. What makes you so confident that she didn't leave that behind as well?"

"Because when you took that gun and ring away from Lex, I still saw Lana's face, not Isobel's—there wasn't an ounce of evil in you, Lana," he said, kissing the top of her head.

She couldn't help but smile now, comforted by his words. "And what's the second reason you're sure I won't be compelled to go after the stones?"

Clark looked her straight in the eyes. "Because, as I told you a little about last night—they don't exist anymore," he said. "When I combined all three, they formed a large crystal, and that's how I was transported to the arctic.

"So that's what all the stone hunting came down to?" she asked, stunned. "A trip to the North Pole?"

"Not exactly. I'm not sure what would've happened if someone else had united them before I did," Clark said, still regretting that it had come so close to that very scenario. "But when I arrived, my biological father had a bit of a building project for me—which turned out to be an ice fortress where I learned a lot more about my origin and destiny."

"Your destiny?"

Clark always felt the need to pace when he had to answer questions like this, but he really wanted to get over that habit, so he stayed where he was on the couch. "I was sent to Earth to protect it, Lana," he said, still shaken from what Jor-El had told him. "Not only from human criminals but from the evils of the universe as well." And the knowledge of Krypton, he wanted to add, but it was too complicated to explain right then. He wanted to tell her all about his home planet when they had a good amount of stress free time together. And that moment definitely didn't qualify.

Now it was Lana's turn to want to stand and pace, but she had to face the fact that someone with Clark's gifts couldn't be kept all to herself. "You're supposed to save the world, as in right now? When you're barely out of high school?" she asked, wondering what kind of backward planet Krypton was.

"I'm not sure when," he said. "I'm just going to take life one day at a time and when I see somewhere I can make a difference, I'll have to do it. I don't really have a choice."

"What makes you think you don't have a choice?"

"Because you're not the only one having visions," Clark said.

Part 16:

"What kind of visions are you having?" Lana asked, surprised that they were going though something so similar.

"Well, they were all dreams—most are nightmares," he said. "But the fact that they're starting to come true would make them actual visions, wouldn't it?"

Lana gave a slow nod. "Who would've thought we'd both turn into seers, Clark?" she asked, trying to find some humor in the strange twist of fate. "You're seeing the future and I'm seeing the past. Maybe we should go into business together."

"Now all we need is someone who can explain the present to us," Clark said, intertwining his fingers with hers. "But it's good to know that whatever it is, we'll be working through it together."

"That's for sure," she said, snuggling into him again. "Now what do these visions have to do with your destiny?"

"Well, for years now, my biological father—Jor-El, has been warning me not to avoid my destiny," Clark explained. "But I've been pretty stubborn about it, to say it mildly. Last summer, he was so sick of it that he abducted me and tried to force me to understand who I am and what I'm destined to do on Earth. So when I came back to Smallville—as an entirely different person, I was focused on the mission of finding the three stones. I found one right away—stealing it from Lex, then my mom discovered a way to undo what Jor-El had done to me, and I snapped out of it."

"So, you stopped searching at that point?" Lana asked, trying to put the puzzle pieces together.

"I had all my memories from what Jor-El taught me, and I knew what I needed to do, but I fought it," he said. "Other than the times that the stones literally called to me, I tried not to think about them."

"And . . . " Lana asked.

"And because of that, the spaceship you saw came—to teach me a lesson, I guess," Clark said, swallowing down a boulder of guilt. "So, like I said, I have no choice but to fulfill my destiny, or people get hurt."

"Okay, both my butt and my mind are numb now," she said. "I need to stand up."

Clark smiled. Quite a bit of him was feeling numb too—from just about every emotion he could imagine. He stood from the couch and put Lana upright. She balanced on one leg. "Hold on to the couch, I'll be right back."

Just as Lana reached out for the arm of the couch, Clark was back with the crutches he'd dropped at the Talon door when he heard the crash Lex created. "That is so hot," Lana said, kissing him. "I didn't think I could be any more smitten with you than I already was, but—"

"Darn. I really should've demonstrated my skills freshman year then," he said, grateful that Lana hadn't made him feel any more guilty about causing the spaceship to come to Smallville. He wondered how much she connected that to the lives that were lost during the meteor shower—which was also his fault.

"Nah—I'm glad I fell for you in the traditional way," she said, putting her crutches under her arms and starting to move around the room. "This feels all too familiar," she mumbled.

Clark stretched, knowing that both times she'd been on crutches, were his fault as well. "Okay, here we go—my visions."

Lana turned back to him, completely caught off guard. She was just about to tell him to go on with his explanation, but was thrilled that he was comfortable enough to continue without her prompting. Things were definitely different for them this time around.

"The night before the meteor shower, I dreamed about lights in the sky—which I now believe were the Northern Lights—hinting that I'd soon be in the arctic, then my parents told me I'd been yelling, 'It's coming.'"

"What's coming?" Lana asked, going over to the kitchen.

"I didn't know at the time," he answered, standing on the opposite side of the kitchen counter from her. "But my visions continued when I was up north, and I think I saw the same spaceship you did. But I'm still not sure what it contains—and that's what I think is the threat—the one that Jor-El, my biological father, promised would come."

Lana felt all the blood in her body rush down to her toes. "Clark, what do you think happened to it? When I woke up from being unconscious, it was gone."

"I'm not sure, but when I returned to Smallville—even before I came to the hospital, I searched all over for it," he said, still not sure it was time to tell her what new power he'd used to do so. "When I didn't find anything, I thought my visions were wrong—until you confirmed that you saw it with your own eyes."

"Now, that's a quirky coincidence, isn't it?" Lana asked, taking a knife and cutting half of the sandwich Chloe had brought her into halves again. She was hungry, but Clark needed a lot more food than she did, so she'd settle for a forth of the foot long.

Just when she said that, Clark had a frightening thought come to mind that perhaps it wasn't a coincidence at all. The "thing" in the spaceship might have come to Lana thinking that she was the one who had summoned it. Jor-El did say that the danger from space was awoken when blood stained the element—which Lana, or Isobel—did. He wanted to keep quiet about that theory though, unless it became an issue. "Yeah, strange coincidence. But a lucky one, since now I know to keep my eyes open."

Still holding the knife in her hand, Lana thought about the terrifying voice again. How could Clark, even with his powers, protect himself—let alone the entire world, from such evil? She was lost in a whirlwind of horrible possibilities when someone knocked on the door.

The knife shot like a missile across the room and stuck into the door—followed by a high-pitched scream. "That's my mom!" Clark shouted, super-speeding to the door and nearly ripping it off.

Lana dropped to the floor, hysterical with fear. "Is she okay? Clark! Clark—tell me she's okay!" She started sobbing, again shaking her hands that burned from the surge.

Part 17:

"She's fine, Lana," Clark said, escorting his wide-eyed mother into the apartment. Looking back to the door, he chilled—if the blade had been designed for anything besides chopping vegetables, Lana's perfect trajectory would've sent it straight through the wood and into his mom. "The knife didn't make it through the door."

"Sit down, Mom, I'll explain things in a minute," Clark said, gesturing to the couch. He took Lex's gun off the side table, and slid it under the couch without her noticing—Martha's eyes were too fixed on Lana to notice anything else at all. Clark then walked over to Lana, who was still crying on the kitchen floor.

"You both need to leave, Clark," Lana said, trying to push him away from her. "Magic can hurt you! I don't know how to control it!"

"Lana, I'm not leaving you," he said, lifting her off the floor and holding her whether she liked it or not. "We'll work though this, okay?"

Lana didn't want to 'work through' anything—she wanted it all over—right then. No, twelve months ago. She'd regretted her hasty decision to go to Paris before she ever left, but at the time she was just too desperate to get away from the pain of seeing Clark every day and thinking they would never be able to be together. She should have known better than to give up on him. He had never given up on her, and she now knew he never would.

Lana nodded, clutching onto Clark as he took her over to Martha. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Kent," Lana said, forcing herself to make eye contact. This was more than just an embarrassing moment, Lana could have killed her. "It was an accident."

Martha shook her head, but with sincere eyes. "I can see that, Lana," she said, taking her hand. "But what happened?"

Clark looked to Lana. He wasn't going to say anything she didn't want him to—not even to his mother. Lana wiped her eyes, knowing she could trust Martha. Over the next hour, Lana explained everything that had happened to her—including the spaceship. She and Clark also told her how Lana knew Clark's secret—to which Martha did not seem as surprised as Clark thought she might be. Lana left out only one thing, which Clark thought was wise—Genevieve's murder. To admit that would have put too much of a burden on Martha.

At the end of it, Martha hugged Lana for a long time, and Lana felt comforted in the arms of someone she considered more of a mother to her than anyone else was. Clark sat back in the armchair he'd pulled beside the couch, and watched the two of them. No matter what he had done to try to comfort Lana, he could see that his mother was ten times better at it. She'd always been amazing that way.

"Lana, Clark may have told you this already," Martha said, "but with each new ability he gains, he's had a time of adjustment to it. He's had to practice to control each one—some for quite a bit longer than others. And some have been a very expensive learning curve for all of us—haven't they, Clark?"

Clark knew she was teasing him, but he was also stunned by what he hadn't thought of. "Yeah, I've gone through a few tractors in my time—curtains, mailboxes, beds, windows—and don't forget the famous storm cellar incident," he said. "And, Mom, I think I see what you're getting at here."

Lana looked between the two of them, not seeing the connection.

"Lana, Clark understands what you're going through," Martha said. "And I really think he can help you get your abilities under control."

"I'm not sure they're really 'abilities,' at all—more like just a surge of energy that causes things to happen," Lana said, leaning against the back of the couch in frustration. "And I'm hoping it will just disappear."

Martha didn't mean to be rude, but she laughed. "If I had a dollar for every time Clark complained about having his powers, I wouldn't be working at the Talon, that's for sure."

Lana finally smiled. "But why would you complain, Clark? They've given you the ability to help hundreds of people—and many more to come."

"Well, for one thing, they've kept me from living a normal life, and being with who I most wanted to be with," he said, putting his hand on Lana's knee. "And it's really frustrating to gain new powers that you don't know how to control. When I first got my super-speed, in Jr. High school, I missed school for a whole week."

"We told his teachers he had the flu," Martha said. "We chased him all over the mid-west—he'd call from Topeka, and by the time we got there, he was in St. Louis. It was awful!"

Clark laughed. "Tell me about it! I was starving, and when I'd finally find someone who was willing to feed me, I'd reach out for the food—then whoosh—I was off to somewhere new, and without a whim of direction."

Lana was giggling so hard, her gut hurt. "You're joking!"

"I wish I was," Martha said. "Believe me, no one was laughing. I was a hysterical mess—though I have to admit, it is rather amusing to think back on now."

"So, what do you do to practice, Clark?" Lana asked.

"It depends on the skill I'm trying to master," he said. "With the running, I practiced on the farm a lot—and I always took a cell phone with me, just in case I ended up in the middle of nowhere. And with my hearing and heat-vision, it's taken a lot of concentration. And strength is one of the hardest for me—still. I'm getting better, but I always have to think about it when I lift something I'm not familiar with, just so I don't chuck it across the entire town."

"Lana, throwing a knife is one thing," Martha said with a smile, "but Clark sent our entire refrigerator across the kitchen and through the family room wall a few years ago—"

"Mom, I was in a growth spurt—and I was hungry," he said.

This all made Lana feel much better. She hadn't considered that Clark had to learn how to control his powers—nor that they were often so frustrating for him. "There you go bringing up your ravenous appetite again. How have you managed to fill this guy, Mrs. Kent?"

"He hasn't been the easiest boy to raise—or feed," she said. "But once we figured out that his powers were strongly connected to his physical growth—including surges in hormones—"

"Okay, did you really have to say that?" Clark asked, trying to stop his face from turning red again. "Why does everyone have to make such a big deal about it?"

"Go on, Mrs. Kent," Lana said, rubbing a hand across Clark's back.

Martha smiled, happy that the two of them were at last so comfortable together. "Then we also found a connection to how his emotions drive the progression of his abilities, and were able to help him better control them. Determination and fear—as well as love, have pushed Clark to really stretch and do things he wasn't previously capable of. And perhaps that's what's bringing on your powers as well, Lana."

Clark looked up. "I think you might be right, Mom," he said. "Lana, what were you thinking about when the knife flew out of your hand?"

Lana thought for a moment. "I was imagining all the awful things the alien in the spaceship could do to you—and when your mom knocked, all I could think of was it coming after you."

Clark stood, sparks shooting down him—hoping his hunch was wrong. "And what about when Lex came?"

"Well, that's what I can't figure out," she said. "I was afraid before you got here—terrified, in fact. As well as when I was in the helicopter accident, and when I saw the spaceship. So why didn't my powers come until you came, Clark? When Lex was threatening you?"

Clark felt like his blood was racing like bullets through his veins. His heart pounded in agony. What had previously seemed to be a silver lining in his visions—that he would not have to fight the 'evil from space' alone—was now by far the worst aspect of his nightmares. How could it be her? He sat back in the armchair, because he knees gave out, and took Lana's hands. "Lana, I don't know how to tell you this, but . . . I think you're my protector."

Part 18:

"Your WHAT?" Both Martha and Lana asked with dropped jaws.

Clark's body burned with disbelief. For Lana to be his protector was the worst possible scenario he could imagine. "I hope I'm wrong, but from what you just explained, it gives my last vision some meaning for the first time."

"Clark, are you having visions again?" Martha asked.

He nodded. "I didn't get a chance to tell you and Dad that at the hospital, but Lana knows a lot about them now," he said. "And in the one I had just before leaving the arctic, I felt the presence of someone else beside me as I fought off the evil from the ship—someone whose help I knew I needed. And when I woke up, I asked Jor-El what it meant, and he said I would have a 'protector' who would make it possible for me to fulfill my destiny." He didn't dare look at Lana as he spoke, imagining her reaction to this.

Lana lifted Clark's chin and looked into his eyes. "Clark, I really believe it's my love for you that's enabling my powers," she said. "Otherwise, I would've been able to defend myself against Lex. But nothing happened until it was YOUR life being threatened."

Clark looked to his mom for answers, as he always did. Martha nodded. "I think she's right," she said.

"That doesn't make sense though—how could Isobel's powers be used to protect me? I was her enemy," he said.

"But they're MY powers now, Clark," Lana said, gripping his hands. "And where Isobel's powers were fed by greed and hatred, mine are fueled by my concern for your safety."

As much as he wished this weren't true, it seemed to be the only plausible explanation. But he'd do anything he could not to have to depend on Lana putting her life at risk for his. He dropped her hands and stood again. "Can you two give me a minute to sort this out?" he asked. They both nodded with looks of pity that made Clark feel even worse.

Clark went out on the stair landing, shut the door behind him, and looked down over the Talon. He imagined the days of Lana walking around, handing out orders with a warm smile on her face. He thought of all the times he'd walked into that room, hoping just for a glimpse of her. His most common worries with Lana used to be if he'd dare ask her out, and if she'd go. Man, he loved that girl—he'd loved her since the moment they met—in the field between their homes when they were five. He remembered it so well. He'd wanted Lana to play many different roles in his life, but babysitter had never been one of them.

He wanted to crush something, but to work out the frustration he had inside, it would take tearing down a skyscraper and pounding it to dust.

Back inside the apartment, Lana gripped her hands together. "Mrs. Kent, I don't know what to do when he gets like this," she said. "He has a gift when it comes to comforting me, but I just," she swallowed, fighting back the waterspout that kept turning on within her, "I just want him to stop worrying so much."

"Jonathan and I learned long ago that Clark is a chronic worrier," Martha said. "He cares very deeply for people and wants to protect them. I'm certain what's bothering him right now is that someone else must come to his rescue. And the fact that it's you—the girl he most wants to protect—has got to be eating at him."

Lana nodded. "Well, let's hope I can make any difference at all," she said, reaching out her hand and trying with all her might to make something come to her—without Clark being in danger. She laughed at herself. "See, I can't even move a pillow when I WANT to!"

"It will come," Martha said, tilting her head in understanding. "Let Clark help you learn to control your abilities so he feels more comfortable with the change, then go on with your everyday lives so things can get back to normal. You two are young, and you have a bright future together if that's what you choose."

Lana couldn't help but smile back at Martha. "If I could make only one choice in this life, it would be to spend the rest of it with Clark," Lana said, thinking of an idea to help Clark and her feel a little more on the normal side again. "Mrs. Kent, could you do me a favor?"

Martha nodded and Lana told her what it was.

"I'd love to, Lana," Martha said, filling with warmth at the thought of how much it would mean to Clark. "I'm so happy you two have worked things out. He's never stopped loving you for a moment and it tortured him to be away from you."

"It's tortured me as well," Lana said. "It's been hard for me to comprehend why he held back his secret for so long, but I now understand his reasoning. And I fully accept him for who he is, and the importance of his future."

This was such a wonderful moment for Martha, she'd worried right along with Clark that he might end up alone because of his secret. And for Lana—the very girl he'd loved so long—to be the one to accept him, took Martha's breath away and she teared up. "Lana, I can't tell you how happy I am to hear that. Clark has gone through such a struggle with wanting to tell you everything and wondering how you'd react," she said, reaffirming in her mind that Clark had shared his secret with Lana. "He would've told you sooner, but he's beaten himself into the ground with guilt over what happened to your parents the day he came to Smallville."

Just as Lana was about to ask Martha what she was talking about, Clark walked back in. "Okay, I'll stop being a baby now. Sorry," he said.

Lana could do nothing but stare at him.

Part 19:

"Well, you two," Martha said, standing. "I should get back to Jonathan." She turned to Lana and winked, hinting that she would also take care of the favor she'd asked of her. "The doctors say we might be able to bring him home tomorrow. And that's why I came, Clark. The insurance agency has approved the repairs on our home, so can you get to work on those as soon as possible? We at least need it all cleaned up and the roof completed by the time your dad gets home. The materials should have been delivered this morning by the lumber company."

Clark smiled. "Yeah, I saw them there when I went to feed Shelby. With the speed I gained the past few days, I'll have it all done in no time—well, I shouldn't exaggerate, it will probably take me an hour or so," he said, then looked to Lana. "It's so cool to say things like that in front of you." He was caught in another surreal moment, but he liked it.

Lana nodded, still lost in thoughts of what Clark had to do with what happened to her parents. "Yeah. Cool," she said flatly.

Clark squinted in confusion. He couldn't help but think how stupid he must have looked storming out a minute ago—acting like a twelve year old boy who just lost a basketball tournament to a girls team. "Okay, Mom, uhh, we'll see you later," he said, giving Martha a hug. "Tell dad I love him and that he doesn't have to worry about anything. I'll take care of both the house and the farm."

Martha gave him a squeeze, then Lana one as well. "I think you two should stick together, all right," she said. "Which means I'm trusting you again, Clark, so don't give me a reason not to." She winked.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Kent," Lana said. "Clark's always a perfect gentleman."

"I know," Martha said, leaving with a feeling of contentment that seemed misplaced. She was worried sick for Clark's safety, but it was somehow comforting to know that someone else had the power to help him—the power she'd always wished she had.

As soon as Martha left, Lana went over to the kitchen and took a bite of her sandwich. "I can't believe we forgot about lunch—it's almost three." Her voice was still hollow, feeling a sense of restlessness that she hadn't felt with Clark for quite a while now. She thought back to the circumstances of her parent's deaths and began searching for a connection to Clark.

Clark watched her from a distance, sensing that something was wrong. "Lana, I'm sorry I freaked out so bad," he said. "You know me, it just takes some time to feel comfortable with a new situation. And who would've known that I'd have a harder time accepting your powers than you'd have accepting mine."

She swallowed down her mouthful of food without chewing as much as she should have. "Yeah, strange, isn't it?" she said, getting a glass from the cupboard so she could wash down the knot in her throat before she choked.

"I'll get that for you," Clark said, rushing over and filling the glass with water. He handed it to her and she smiled before she started drinking. He knew that smile—it was the one that told him he had something to worry about. But Clark was famous for keeping in what he most wanted to say, so he just returned her stare—waiting.

Lana looked right back at him—waiting. She finally sighed, then said, "Let's get to your house—it sounds like we have a lot to do."

On the drive over, there were bits of empty chit-chat, mixed with long periods of silence. When they reached the Kent farm, Clark turned off Lana's Jeep and sat there, gripping the steering wheel like he needed to hold onto something for stability. "Okay, Lana, I know I'm being really immature about this, but I can't stand the thought of you having to stay by my side just to protect me—it makes me feel like a complete loser. And I don't know any other way to say that," he said. "I'm supposed to be the man around here, and it looks like I'll be rolling around in a pile of meteor rock and you'll be kickin' everyone's butts around me. Can you see why I'm frustrated by that? And I can't even begin to tell you how scared I am about you getting hurt!" Clark cursed at the end of his rant and Lana jolted in response. She'd only heard him do that when he was on Red-k. She could literally feel his frustration heating up the Jeep.

Lana reached over and took one of his hands off the steering wheel. "Clark, I won't be at your side to protect you, I'll be there because I love you," she said. "If you knew there was a better chance to protect me from harm because you were near—would you stay as close as possible?"

Clark didn't hesitate to nod.

"You've probably done that for me more times than I know—you've always been there when I've needed you most," Lana continued. "So let's just try to move on and not think about all this serious crap for the rest of the day, all right?"

Clark took in a heavy breath, trying to relax and banish the feeling of unease. He hated feeling so helpless—if he could only figure out how to get past his weakness with Kryptonite, he could stop worrying so much about what Lex knew. He just wished he didn't have to deal with it, it was bad enough that he'd lost his relationship with Lex and now he felt they were mortal enemies—where had everything gone so wrong? And then there was the freak in the spaceship to deal with—who knew what that would bring?

Clark finally turned and said, "Lana, Jor-El told me that with the companionship of my protector, I could crush my enemies. But we'll really have to work on controlling your powers if I'm going to have the faith that you'll be all right. That's the only possibility that's keeping me from whisking you up right now and leaving Smallville for good."

Lana smiled. "Not that I wouldn't enjoy running off into the sunset with you, Clark. But you're Smallville's only super-hero," she said. "It needs you more than ever right now."

Clark laughed as he walked to the other side of the Jeep, opened Lana's door, and helped her out. "I really wonder how the residents would react if they knew their only hope rested with a barely-graduated alien, and a limping witch."

She was laughing now too. "Wonder Twin powers—activate," she said, holding up her fist—which Clark touched with his.

"All we're missing is a set of matching rings," Clark said, wanting to say that he hoped to take care of that minor detail someday.

Lana couldn't help but grin—that was until she and Clark walked into the Kent's kitchen and came face to face with Sheriff Adams.

"How nice to bump into you, Miss Lang," Sheriff Adams said. "I was just headin' over to the Talon—we need to have ourselves a little chat."

Part 20:

Lana felt like she'd just stepped off a cliff and was free falling—watching the ground come closer and closer. Clark put his arm around her. "What's the matter, Sheriff?" he asked.

"You know, Mr. Kent," the sheriff said. "I just don't get you. It doesn't matter what sorta trouble we have in this town—somehow you're always there."

Clark really wanted to roll his eyes like a girl and say, "whatever," but instead he cleared his throat and said, "Well, have you ever found me guilty of something you wouldn't have done yourself?"

Sheriff Adams was stuck up what she'd call—Crap Creek without a paddle. She'd tried as hard as she could to catch this boy doing mischief, but she had to admit that he was no more than a nosy do-gooder. And she couldn't arrest anyone for that. "Not yet, Mr. Kent. Not yet," she said. "But if you could please give myself and Miss Lang some privacy, I have a few questions for her."

Clark gave Lana a squeeze. "No problem, I'll uhh, be upstairs cleaning up, if you two want to talk in the living room." He gestured to the only room that wasn't cluttered with debris.

"That's just fine," said the sheriff. "And we're finished with our investigation here, so when you're done upstairs—do your folks a favor and pick up the rest of this mess."

Clark nodded as he walked upstairs, his stomach tied in knots. But that was nothing compared to how he knew Lana was feeling. He went to his bedroom and tuned into the conversation with his super-hearing.

Sheriff Adams walked behind Lana as she headed to the couch. Lana was sure she'd start retching before she made it. "What's this about, Sheriff?" she asked, trying to mask her fear.

"Oh, I think you know what this is about, Miss Lang," she answered. "We've got a murder investigation on our hands."

Static raced through Lana's skin. "Who was murdered?"

"Jason Teague," said the sheriff.

"Jason? What do you mean?" Lana asked in shock, not even having a chance to feel relief that the sheriff didn't say Genevieve like she expected. "He's is in a Metropolis hospital—on life support."

"Not anymore," she answered. "Someone pulled the plug on him this morning—unauthorized, I should add."

Lana's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh my . . . " That's all her limited amount of breath could get out.

"And there's more—Jason's father was found dead in his penthouse shortly afterward—from an overdose," Sheriff Adams said. "A whole family wiped out within a few days time—kinda makes you wonder, doesn't it?"

"Wonder what?" Lana asked, trying to compose herself.

"What kind of wack-o family this was," the sheriff said. "It appears that both parents wanted to take out their son, and Mr. Teague finished the job—admitted to it in the note he left. And the bullet removed from Jason Teague's shoulder was from the handgun found in his mother's car. It was registered under Mr. Teague's name, but it had Genevieve's fingerprints all over it." Lana didn't even blink—a swirl of possibilities and questions in her mind. Sheriff Adams went on. "So, Miss Lang, what can you tell me about the relationship Jason had with his parents?"

Lana swallowed and tried to speak. Her answers came out in short croaks. "I . . . uhh, well, when I met Jason last summer, he told me his father had cut him off, and that his mother was 'interfering and controlling,'" she said. "But his mother seemed to be trying to make amends with him lately."

"And how did Jason respond to that?" Sheriff Adams asked.

Lana shook her head. "I don't think they repaired the rift, but I haven't talked to him for almost a month now, anything could've happened," she said.

Sheriff Adams was jotting down notes in her notepad. "Uh huh, you got that right," she said. "Now, how upset was Jason over Mr. Kent stealing his girl away?"

"Clark didn't steal me from Jason, Sheriff," Lana said, at last having an easy question to answer. "Clark and I have been together on and off for the last four years. When I went to Paris, we'd decided to part ways, but my feelings never went away for him, and I broke up with Jason before I started seeing Clark again."

"Well, let me give ya some advice, Miss Lang—young boys don't like to be hung out to dry that way," the sheriff said. "And the way Jason stormed in on the Kents with a shotgun proves my point. Jonathan and Martha must be the only folks on Earth who can claim they were saved by a meteor crashing though their roof."

Lana's face did not match the sheriff's amusement. She still couldn't believe what Jason had done to the Kents. "You may be right," she said. "But like I said, I haven't spoken with Jason for a month now."

"Of course I'm right," the sheriff said, leaning closer to Lana. "I'm always right." She stood. "I'll be in touch if I have further questions, Miss Lang. Try not to break any more hearts—you'd do well to stick with this farm boy of yours. City slickers cause too much trouble in these parts."

Lana stood with the aid of her crutches and escorted Sheriff Adams to the door. Once the sheriff pulled away, Lana collapsed to the floor and Clark super-sped down to be with her. "Lana, I'm so sorry about Jason."

She looked up to him with red eyes. "You know, the real tragedy is what he did to himself," she said. "As fake as he might have been with me—I know there was good in him somewhere, but he chose a different path."

Clark nodded and held her close. "At any given time, any of us could get off on the wrong path," he said. "Good friends and family make such a difference."

They sat on the floor like that for a while, talking about the difference even the smallest choices can make—they'd both had plenty of experience. When Lana finally expressed her relief that Sheriff Adams hadn't questioned her about Genevieve's death, Clark said, "How do you suppose Jason got that gunshot wound? Do you think his mom really did it?"

"I wouldn't doubt it," she said. "If Jason betrayed her in some way, she was capable of anything. And I have no idea what to think of his dad."

"Yeah, that sounds a little fishy," Clark said, sure that Lex Luthor had a hand in the whole Teague family mystery.

Lana released a breath and tried to get off the floor. "Ugh! I hate this stupid cast. I can't do anything."

Clark helped her up. "Yeah, we need to find a buddy with healing powers, don't we?" he said. "Why don't you rest on the couch and I'll get to work on this place."

Lana thought resting sounded really good after such an emotional day. "Thanks. I'd try to help, but I'm sure I'd just get in your way."

"Well, you might not move as fast as I can," he said, propping up some pillows and handing her the TV remote, "but I'm sure I'll need your help with the redecorating."

She put the remote on the side table. "Clark, I doubt anything on TV is going to be half as exciting as watching you clean like the Tasmanian Devil."

Clark lifted his brows. "Probably not." And then he was off, spinning and zipping in and out—between the kitchen and the front lawn. The only thing Lana could really get a clear picture of was the mounting pile of debris growing outside. After only a couple of minutes, Clark stopped and wiped his forehead, standing there in an unfamiliar white tee shirt, which had dust and grime all over it.

Lana laughed. "When did you have time to change your shirt?"

He smiled. "I changed it twice—the other two got holes in them," he said. "Just ask my mom, I'm not the easiest on work clothes."

"I wouldn't imagine that you are," Lana said, "but you sure look—Watch out!" Her arm shot up, a surge ripping through it.

Part 21:

Clark looked up to see one of the house's main beams suspended in the air right above his head. Before he even thought to grab it, he looked to Lana in amazement. Her hand was outstretched as it had been before, but there was one difference—Lana had a smile on her face.

"I can't believe I did that!" she said. "That thing must weigh hundreds of pounds!"

"Yeah, I'd say," Clark said, looking up to the hovering beam and supposing Lana's arm must be getting tired. "Can I, uhh, help you out there, Miss Lang?" He tried to sound like a cowboy, but it only made Lana laugh at his miserable impersonation. He sounded more like a constipated Sheriff Adams than John Wayne.

The beam fell a few inches closer to Clark as Lana continued laughing, and he finally grabbed it and did some super-speedy fix it work. When he was done, he couldn't stop smiling as he saw how pleased Lana was with herself. "You know, it wouldn't have hurt me, Lana," he said. "You wouldn't believe the things that have slammed on top of me."

Lana's smile faded a bit and Clark felt bad for raining on her parade. "I know that, but I didn't have time to think. When I saw it falling—I just reacted . . . no way! Clark!" She gave another huge grin, just realizing something. "I did that on purpose! I made a conscious effort to stop that beam from hitting you. I can't believe it!"

Clark walked to her, and instead of giving her a hug, he gave her a high five. That's just what felt right. "You're officially the coolest chic I know."

When Clark slapped Lana's hand, she noticed that her arm didn't burn as badly as it had before. She shook it once, and the pain was gone. "I have GOT to try something else," she said, motioning for Clark to sit next to her. "Good thing you're tougher than steel, because I have no idea what's about to happen."

Clark put his hands over his face. "Wake me when it's over."

Lana ripped the pillow away from him and hurled it across the room. "Okay, here goes." She reached out, extending her fingers, then bringing them into a tight fist—but nothing happened. After a few tries, she dropped her arm—her face falling to disappointment.

"Do you want me to try to hurt myself?" Clark asked with a smirk.

"No. And it's not funny, stop it," Lana said, removing his smirk with a warm kiss. "I want to learn how to control this without you being in danger."

Clark got more serious now. "Okay—since my heat vision is my ability that's most tied to my emotions, I'll tell you what I did to practice."

Lana loved to watch Clark get embarrassed so she took the opportunity. "Actually, Clark. Let's not even go there."

"C'mon, Lana," he said, trying really hard not to react to her banter. "It's not what you think—I used a scarecrow . . ." As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew he was in trouble. "No, I mean—" It was too late, his face was on fire and Lana couldn't catch her breath from laughing.

When she looked up, she had tears rolling down her cheeks. "A scarecrow? Geez, Clark, if I'd known you were so desperate—" she couldn't even finish.

He sat back against the couch to wait for her to be done. "Yeah, well, I had to go through five scarecrows, a couple of water barrels and our mailbox," he said, smiling now. "But I called them all 'Lana', if that makes you feel any better."

While she was laughing, she thought she'd try something out. She aimed for the pillow and right on cue, sent it flying across the room—directly into Clark's face. "Yep, that makes me feel MUCH better about it."

"So, now it works both ways, does it?" he asked, throwing the pillow back at her. "You can both protect and TORTURE me. That's just great. Why not 'Torture Clark'? Everyone's doing it—it should be a national pastime."

"Okay, I'll be nice," Lana said, making his pout disappear with her own pursed lips going to his. "Now help me out here, will you?"

Clark pulled back a little to see if she was serious this time. "You seem to be doing a great job on your own," he said. "And I think you've just proved that your powers can be produced by any sort of emotion—good or bad."

"Yep," she said with a smile, concentrating on the pillow and willing it into mid-air again. She twirled it in circles. "What can I say? You inspire me."

"Very cool. You're a natural," he said. "It's taken me a lot longer than a day to get a grip on ANY of my powers."

Lana couldn't help but be excited now. A few hours ago she was scared to death by the power she felt invading her—now she welcomed it with open arms. Especially since she knew if she really learned how to use it, she could not only protect Clark, but help others as well. Starting with Mr. and Mrs. Kent. "While I put things away in the kitchen," she said. "Why don't you go patch the roof?"

Clark smiled at her confidence. "Just don't do anything that you need to move around for—I don't want you hurting your leg."

She hated feeling like such a burden with her stupid leg. "I promise."

With Clark going upstairs to work—zipping outside every few seconds for materials—Lana sat on a kitchen chair and focused really hard on one object at a time. Pretty soon, she was able to move whatever she wanted with the reoccurring emotion of stubborn determination—having nothing to do with Clark. She gained more and more confidence each time. One of the last things she needed to take care of was a broken vase on the floor. She knew it meant a lot to Mrs. Kent—it was given to her from her grandmother—and wished she didn't have to throw it in the trash. It was beyond all hope of repair though—or was it? Lana whisked up the pieces and laid them out on the table. Perhaps glue couldn't help but what about a little magic? Piece by piece, she put the vase together like a puzzle—welding the edges so well—through sheer will—that she was sure Mrs. Kent would never know the difference.

And then, a crazy thought occurred to her. "Clark!" she hollered. He was down in half a second. "Get your gorgeous x-ray eyes over here. I need some help."

"Wow, Lana!" he said, looking around the room. "You're amazing!"

Lana would've smiled and thanked him, but she was on a mission. "Okay, Kent, turn on those baby-blue peepers of yours and show me exactly where my leg is broken."

"All right," he said, confused. He squinted and pointed to the first place. "Here, and h—"

"Hold your finger still, and tell me what happens," she said, focusing hard on where Clark was pointing. It took all her energy, but Clark's stunned reaction was worth it.

"Lana, your bone is—I can't believe this—the bone is melting together," he said. "It looks . . . perfect now."

Lana clapped her hands in excitement, and she could've sworn she saw sparks shoot from them. "Okay, next." She focused hard on the other break, and Clark confirmed that she'd fixed that one as well.

Lana stood, shocked out of her mind that there was not a bit of pain. "Clark, would you please get this cast off my leg—it's making me crazy!"

"Are you sure?" he asked, still in awe.

She gave a nod, and Clark carefully crushed the plaster. Lana gathered up the pieces with a distant sweep of her hand and banished them to the trash. "There," Lana said, looping her arm with Clark's. "Now, I think I see a sunset coming on, and I have a little surprise for you in the loft."

Part 22:

As Clark and Lana walked toward the barn, Lana turned back to admire the work Clark had done so quickly. "You're the amazing one, Clark," she said. "That roof looks better than new."

"Yeah, I have to admit I'm kinda good at that stuff—but unfortunately, I don't think my future will have a lot to do with construction," he said, scanning over his efforts with a proud grin.

Lana thought he'd be a shoe-in for a Abercrombie and Fitch model—but she didn't want to share him with the world—not in that way at least.

"Hey, do those new shingles match okay?" Clark asked. "The color looks a bit off from the rest of the roof."

Lana squinted. "I can't see any difference at all," she said. "But then, you always have been a perfectionist."

"Why do you think I'm so whooped over you?" Clark asked. "You're flawless."

"Clark, it's dangerous to feel that way about someone" she said, her heart beating faster as they walked into the barn. She hoped he liked the surprise. "And I've made so many mistakes with you, that I can't imagine how you can still believe that."

"Lana, if you'd put up with every lie and stunt of mine without questioning me or getting frustrated, then I'd definitely have reason to worry," he said. "The fact that we've struggled so much to get where we are is what makes every new moment that I'm with you the best one yet."

She stared up at him as they approached the stairs to the loft, a knot forming in her throat. "I bet if you x-rayed me right now, you'd find butterflies flying all over."

Clark looked down at her soft face, sure that they'd miss the sunset altogether if he stopped for even one second to kiss her. "Well, since those butterflies probably can't fly you into the loft, do you want me to carry you up the stairs?" he asked. "I don't want you to put too much pressure on that leg."

"Yes, I'd love for you to carry me," Lana said, putting her arms around his neck, "but it's not because of my leg. It's fine, I promise."

He lifted her up and took the steps slowly, burying his face in her silky hair—and for the umpteenth time in the last twenty four hours, he couldn't believe he was lucky enough to have her in his arms.

When they reached the loft, he glanced up to see his coffee table covered with a white linen cloth, a pair of unlit candles, a two-liter bottle of soda—next to a set of crystal champagne glasses, and two Domino's Pizza boxes.

Clark looked at Lana, whose smile covered half her face. "When did you do this?" he asked.

"I didn't," she said. "I had a secret helper."

Clark knew who the helper must have been, and couldn't wait to thank his mom. "Thanks, Lana. After the past few days, it's good to know that some things—like Domino's Pizza, haven't changed."

They sat on the couch and Lana opened one of the boxes. "Yeah, I thought we needed to add some normalcy back into our lives," she said. "Now, let's see, would you like a slice of plain cheese or combination?" She already knew the answer.

"I like my pizza as loaded as it comes," he said, reaching out for a slice.

"And I think I'll have the lighter version," Lana said. "Those butterflies are still taking up most of my tummy."

After Clark lit the candles and they ate their pizza, Lana filled the glasses with root beer and they leaned against the window ledge to watch the sunset together—as they had done so many times before.

"It seems like it's been forever since we did this," Clark said. "To be honest, I've avoided watching sunsets for almost the entire last year. It was . . . well, painful at times."

Lana gave a solemn nod. "For me too. So many times, I just wanted to forget about all that had happened, and come to the loft to talk to you," she said. "This loft is where some of the best memories of my life have been made."

"Mine too," Clark said, lifting his glass for a toast. "Here's to a lifetime of more memories together."

As she lifted her own glass to meet his, Lana wondered if Clark really meant that—did he really think of spending the rest of his life with her? She hoped so. She took a sip, then set the glass on the window ledge. "Clark, one of the reasons I wanted to do something special tonight, is because I needed to tell you what's been on my mind lately—well, at least what was most on my mind before the meteor shower."

Clark nodded, feeling nervous. He'd never been comfortable during one of these "talks." He set his glass beside Lana's and she took his hands, which was a good sign.

Lana's heart pounded so hard, she knew Clark had to be hearing it. "Clark, I love you. And I've wanted to be with you for so long that even without knowing your secret, I was determined to make our relationship the one I've always wanted," she said, feeling the knot in her throat again. "I don't want anything to come between us again—not stones, not meteor showers, not spaceships. I want to truly be a couple now, and forget about what anyone else thinks. And I know I'm young to be making this decision, and you'll have to make your own—but I don't plan to date anyone else." Ever again, she wanted to add, but worried that would put too much pressure on him.

"I—uhh . . . " Clark said, his jaw dropped.

Lana stepped back, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"No . . . no, that's not why I'm stumped," Clark said, bringing her close to him again—so close that he wondered if he could manage to say what he wanted to. Now his heart was thumping every bit as loud as Lana's. "You've just taken the words right out of my mouth, but I was afraid to tell you that. I don't want to be with anyone else either, I never have. And I know college is going to bring a lot of changes into my life—not to mention that I have no idea what to expect 'destiny' wise, but you're the one thing that I'm determined to keep the same—our relationship will be better in fact, much better." Clark wiped a tear from her smiling face, then kissed her. It felt just like the first night they had really kissed, standing in the exact place as they were that moment. "I love you, Lana. I don't want to spend one more day without you—ever." He paused for a minute, fighting back what he knew he had to say next.

"What is it?" Lana asked, noticing his look of hesitation. "I just told you how I want the same thing."

"Lana, before you make that decision," he said, swallowing hard, "you need to know what I've most dreaded telling you. I can't hide it any longer."

Part 23:

Lana's insides flipped over. She was glad she didn't have to be the one to ask Clark about his connection to her parent's death—that he'd decided to tell her himself, but she dreaded the thought of him having to explain it. She was certain it would tear him apart. She'd been thinking about the possibilities for the past few hours, ever since Martha dropped the bombshell. But she was glad she had. It gave Lana a chance to mull through everything and she'd come up with only one conclusion.

"Clark, I think I know what you're about to tell me," she said, putting her hands on his face. "And I know that you came to Earth in the first meteor shower—but that doesn't mean that my parents' death is your fault."

Clark's face went white—all blood draining from it. "It doesn't?" he asked, gaping at her. "How did you—"

She didn't want to get Martha into trouble, so she only admitted to how she came to the conclusion after Martha's slip. "It was a matter of deduction. Since I witnessed a spaceship coming to Earth in a meteor shower just a few days ago," she said, "I'm assuming you arrived in a similar way. So when I started doing the math of when you were adopted, and when the first meteors came—everything made sense. That's the only way either ship could have gone unnoticed."

Clark nodded, but didn't feel any better about it. "But, Lana, what I think you may have missed is that the meteor shower that I arrived in was purposely sent to Smallville," he said. "I think that Jor-El—my biological father, somehow directed the shower here so he could mask my arrival. He'd been here before and planned it out carefully—not only because of the location of the cave, but because he wanted someone in the Kent family to raise me." In response to her wide, confused eyes, Clark felt he had to continue. "I don't think he was awful enough to purposely kill people with the meteors, but that's exactly what he did! How can you forgive me for that?"

Lana hadn't considered any of that, but she knew one thing for certain. "Clark, whether or not your biological father is the reason my parents are dead, it was not YOUR fault," she said, trying to keep his tearing eyes from darting away. "You were only a child. You had nothing to do with my parents' death." She could see that she wasn't getting through to him. "As I said before, if you expect me to forgive myself for what Isobel did while she was in my body, then you should forgive yourself as well. Neither of us could have prevented the lives that were lost—the damage caused by Isobel and Jor-El were because of THEIR choices, not OURS."

"I'm so sorry, Lana," Clark said bringing her against him and holding on as he never had before. "I wish I could bring your parents back. I'd do anything to change what happened."

"I know you would," Lana said. "And that's all that matters to me. YOU are all that matters to me."

After a time, they both calmed and looked out to see the red and orange hues of the sun fading—the crest of the yellow ball barely peeking over the horizon. "The next time we see the sun, Clark, it will be a new day," Lana said, kissing him tenderly. "And every secret we've ever withheld from one another will be left behind."

Clark gave a warm smile, melting inside. "Well, not EVERY secret. You still don't know the reason I begged my dad for his telescope."

Lana moved her face along the side of Clark's neck, taking in the delicious smell of him. "Yes, I do," she said, breathless. "But you don't know about my secret stash of love letters I've written to you over the years—hidden between my mattresses."

"Are you serious?" Clark asked with bulging eyes and an even wider grin.

Lana threw her hand over her mouth when Clark super-sped out of the barn. "I can't believe I said that!" She'd have to get used to the fact that Clark's new found confidence with her left the door wide open to embarrassment. He'd have never done this before.

In less than thirty seconds, Clark was back with both his hands and pockets stuffed with folded pieces of paper. "Sorry, I think I dropped some along the way."

Lana shrieked and started grabbing what she could from him. "Great! Now I'll be the gossip of every passerby in Smallville."

"I thought you didn't care what other people thought of us," Clark said, teasing her with the notes as he tried to read them.

"Well, I surely don't want anyone finding scattered letters around town that GUSH with my undying affection for you," she said. "And I don't want YOU reading them either—there's nothing you don't already know—give them back!"

They were in a mock-struggle for the next few minutes, love letters covering the floor all around them, until they both settled beside the couch and Lana gave up. "I'll let you read ONE of them, and that's all!" she said, gesturing to the mess. "You choose."

Clark lit up, thrilled that he'd tricked her into it. He wouldn't have read any without her permission, but it obviously paid off that she believed otherwise. Scanning over the notes, decorated with all sorts of flirtatious sayings and hearts, he selected one that looked to be an older one—wrinkled and worn. "How about this one?" he asked.

Lana put both hands over her face. "Dang! Why did you have to pick THAT one? I'm never going to live this down."

Part 24:

Clark was quite proud of himself for his perfect pick of love letters. From what he could see of Lana's face, it was already beet red. This was going to be fun.

"All right, here we go," Clark said, looking at the outside of the paper that said his name with hearts around it. He opened the letter, and read Lana's writing that seemed to be from grade school, "Dear Clark, I like you a lot. You are sooooooo cute. Do you like me back? I wish you would hold my hand and ask me to go steady with you. Love, Lana Lang – your neighbor."

Lana expected to hear hysterical laughter, but she looked up to see Clark silently reading it again—and then he reached over and held her hand.

"Yes, I definitely like you back—Lana Lang, my neighbor," he said, looking to her with a much more serious expression than she expected. "Why didn't you ever give these to me?"

"Because I didn't have a clue that you felt the way you did," Lana said, leaning against his shoulder. "It's not like you were the most flirtatious of guys."

"Yeah, like there was ever any room for me to flirt with you, even if I'd had the nerve," Clark said. "You had too many admirers as it was."

"But did you know that you were the only one I was interested in until the summer before high school—when I'd pretty much decided that you weren't the slightest bit interested in me?" Lana asked, feeling a strange sense of rejection all over again.

Clark gave her a look of utter disbelief—Whitney was a rebound off of him? He couldn't believe it! "You even liked me in Jr. High?" he asked. "I was a total geek."

Lana smiled. "I didn't think so," she said, looking through the pile of letters and picking one out. "See for yourself."

This was better than Christmas morning, Clark decided. He opened up the note, the handwriting having matured a bit now—but still, the paper had hearts all over it. "Clark, I think you're really cool. We should hang out sometime. Do you want to go riding with me on Saturday? I hope so. Call me-k? Lana."

"This is crazy, Lana," he said. "What gave you the idea that I wasn't interested in you?"

Lana gave a faint smile. "Let me see if I can find a letter that explains that," she said, sifting through the papers again. She opened a few up, then found the perfect one. "Here."

Clark took the note and started to read. "Clark, I don't get you. Why do you always walk off when I try to talk to you? It's like you can't stand me or something. What did I do to make you so mad? I wish you would tell me. I feel so stupid. Lana."

"I cried a river the night I wrote that," Lana said. "I swore you off for good—well, until the next week, when I caught you staring at me with a cute smile on your face. And then, I was completely head over heels again."

Clark figured these last two letters were from Jr. High. "You now know why I ran from you, right?" he asked. "I mean, I didn't figure out for years why I got so sick around you—but it was your necklace."

Lana's eyes at last glimmered understanding. "You mean, all that time you thought it was because you were nervous?"

Clark nodded. "Well, you still do that to me, you know. With or without your necklace."

"And you still turn me inside out with your cute smile," Lana said. "No matter how many times I've sworn you off."

Clark kissed her, and they were both glad they were beyond hand holding now. Pulling back with a smirk he said, "Lana, I know I'm about ten years late, but will you go steady with me?"

Lana laughed, kissing him even more. "Yes, I'll to go steady with you. Even if you are a geek."

"So now that we're an official couple, can I have free reign on the letters?" Clark asked with a hopeful grin. "I'll let you read some of my journal."

"Your journal?" Lana said, perking up. "You can read every one of them, if I can read your JOURNAL!"

Clark nearly flew to the roof—literally. "It's a deal," he said, feeling kind of guilty by the time he pulled his journal from a drawer and gave it to her. He'd only written about twenty pages since he was a kid—nothing compared to Lana's collection, but most of it was about her.

Lana sat back against the couch and started with page one, nervous about what note Clark would find next. She read, "Today I played with Lana. We caught grasshoppers in the field. First Lana screamed but then she held one and liked it. Until it jumped in her face and then she screamed again. It was funny. I like her. She is kinda cute. But she is a girl, so that is gross."

"Sorry to break your heart, Clark, but I'm still a girl," Lana said. "So I suppose that still qualifies me as gross."

"Uhh, definitely not. I grew out of that mindset pretty quickly," he said. "But I bet you'd still scream if I put a grasshopper in your hands."

"You're probably right," she said. "Now, let's see what journal entry number two brings." She moved down the page to discover that he'd skipped a few years. "Dad says I have to be more careful in sports or I can't play anymore. It's not my fault that I'm so strong. I can't help it. When I try to be careful, I look like a wimp. Pete told me I hit the baseball like a girl today and I wanted to punch him in the face, but I knew I couldn't. I wish I was like the other guys. I hate being a freak."

In response to Lana's watery eyes, Clark said. "I forgot that was in there." He glanced down the page to see more entries like that one, then turned the page. "Why don't you start over here?"

Lana turned the page back. "Clark, if it's okay, I'd really like to read it. It's important for me to understand what you've gone through—it's part of who you are," she said.

Clark held his breath for a second, then nodded. "Okay, but I don't want you feeling sorry for me. It's embarrassing."

"Oh, and these love letters of mine aren't embarrassing?" she asked. "Just ignore me and be as nosy as you want."

He smiled at last and picked up another note—with no hearts this time—and clearly from a more mature high school Lana. As Lana continued with his journal, he silently read: "Dear Clark, I wish so much that we could get past the point we're at right now. Tonight I broke up with Whitney—for good. In my video message to him, I said it didn't have anything to do with you, but I lied. It has everything to do with you, I just didn't want you feeling guilty for breaking your promise to Whitney. You seem to feel guilty about everything lately, and I wish I knew why. The truth is, that I've been in love with you as long as I can remember, and I don't want to hide that any longer. But every time I try to get closer to you, you run away—emotionally at least. I know you're afraid of hurting Chloe, and I am as well, but we can't risk our own happiness for the sake of others. I'm sorry I always bother you about sharing your secrets with me, but the more you protect them, the more curious I get. How can I help it? Sometimes such crazy things come into my head about what you're hiding that I can't help but be scared. How horrible can it be, and why don't you trust me? Are you dying from an incurable disease? I hope not! Were you affected by the meteor shower—because if you were, it's okay, it wouldn't change how I feel about you. Beyond those possibilities, everything else seems completely impossible. Clark, I don't want our chance of a future together to be held up by your secret—but it's the lies that eat at me. If you could just say, 'I wasn't there for you because something came up that I had to take care of,' rather than what you usually seem to pull from the oblivion of space, I could handle it better. Please, please, don't lie to me anymore. I don't know how I can go on like this when all I want is to be with you, in your arms, where I've always wanted to be. Will you please give me that chance? With all my love, Lana."

When Clark looked up, he found Lana staring at him. "That was you?" she asked.

"Was what me?" he asked, looking to the pages of his journal.

"It says here that you dreamed you were floating above my bed," Lana said. "But, Clark, I don't think you were dreaming—or we were having the same dream."

"What do you mean?" Clark asked, taken off guard and still trying to get the tightness out of his throat from reading her letter.

"For years I'd wake to see—what I thought was someone hovering above me," Lana said. "Of course, Nell told me I was having nightmares, but I knew that wasn't true, because when it happened—I was never afraid. I always had a feeling of peace, and protection—the same feeling I have whenever I'm with you."

Clark knew she had to be right—it wasn't the first time he thought he was dreaming of flying, only to find out he wasn't dreaming at all. Just as Clark was going in for a desperate kiss—all the lights in the barn went out—leaving them in a dark sea of black.

A booming voice echoed up to the loft. "I'm curious, Lana—can witches fight someone they can't see?"

Lana gripped Clark's shirt, whispering in a panic. "Clark, I can't move anything unless I can concentrate on it."

Clark jumped up—taking Lana with him, and scanned the barn with his x-ray vision. Lex was racing toward the loft—his body laden with meteor rocks.

Part 25:

There wasn't time to test Lana's ability to manipulate someone she couldn't see, and Lex was now storming up the stairs. Clark threw his arms around Lana. "Hold on tight," he said. "And close your eyes."

He leapt to the top of the loft window ledge and jumped off.

Lana wanted to scream, but her lack of air wouldn't allow it. Just as she was expecting to hit hard—nothing happened. And that's when she finally screamed—like a banshee.

By that time, Clark had them so far above Smallville that all Lana could see was the small lights of the town. "Just keep your eyes closed, Lana," Clark said again. "I'm not very good at this yet." He wished he could close his own eyes.

Lana tried her hardest to stop screaming, but every time she took a peek, the shrills came back. Finally, she was able to form a string of sputtered words. "Uhh, you forgot to mention that you can fly!"

"I didn't forget," Clark said. "I just hate doing it, but I ran out of options back there."

"That's a pretty big rabbit to pull out of your hat," Lana said, on the verge of nervous laughter now.

Clark couldn't help but relax a little, knowing they were well out of Lex's grasp—or even vision. "Sorry I had to go so high and so fast—I didn't want Lex to see what I did, and I'm not exactly wearing 'flying clothes'." He was hardly a stealth bomber with his white tee-shirt on, which would make him glow like a strobe if the right light were to hit him.

Lana smiled, watching his hair flapping in the wind along with her own. "I really wanted tonight to be special, but I have to admit—you've gone beyond my wildest expectations."

"Well, I always imagined this moment to be a little more romantic than this," he said, thinking back to when Jor-El took his date for a bit of a ride. "But I'll make it up to you—once I get better at it, we'll fly to the Bahamas and enjoy the sunset."

Lana hugged him tighter. "I am SO going to LOVE this!" she said, kissing his cheek. "And it seems that you're already good at it. You're not even flapping your arms."

"Very funny," Clark said. "It's really strange—I don't have to use anything but my mind to control where I go, or how fast."

She was surprised how safe she felt, but that was hardly surprising considering whose strong arms were wrapped around her. "I've definitely found my favorite among your abilities."

They were coming back toward the center of town now. "At least one of us enjoys it," he said. "I think I've been able to fly for a few years now—starting when I appeared over your bed in the middle of the night—but I just refused to practice."

"Of course," Lana said, running her fingers through his wind blown hair. "I forgot—you're afraid of heights."

"Uh, huh," he said. "Pretty unfortunate for the only guy on the planet who can fly, isn't it?" He landed in a darkened area behind the Smallville Medical Center, looking around for witnesses before his descent.

Lana's insides settled and she couldn't help but be somewhat disappointed. "I hope you'll be practicing a little more often now."

Clark took Lana's face in his hands and kissed her softly. "I promise we'll go again soon," he said. "But for now, I need to warn my parents about Lex."

They held hands as they walked into the hospital, receiving a variety of strange looks from the hospital staff that knew the two of them all too well. "Why are they looking at us that way?" Lana asked.

Clark glanced around, then turned to Lana quickly. "It's your leg!" He scooped her up into his arms. "You left last night with two nasty breaks." He almost started to laugh when he realized their mistake.

"How depressing," Lana said. "I heal my own leg and I can't even brag about it."

"Get used to it," Clark said with a smile, walking toward his father's room. "Pretty soon, you'll have to start lying every bit as much as I do."

Lana tipped her head, truly realizing how hard that must be on Clark—a model Boy Scout if there ever was one. "The more I learn about what you've been going through, the more I realize how lucky I am that you put up with my stubborn questioning for these years."

Clark had something very out of character come to his mind. "Well, it's only because you're so hot," he said with a smirk. "Even superheroes need a bit of action once in a while."

"I can't believe you just said that," Lana said, pounding his chest and pretending to try to get away from him. "Did someone slip you some red-k? Sheesh!"

"Not yet, but stick around—it's sure to happen soon enough," Clark said, peeking into his father's room. He set Lana down, and she made a conscious effort to limp into the room so the nurses would stop being so curious.

"Hey, Dad," Clark said, surprised by Jonathan's appearance. "You look great!"

Jonathan nodded and sat up. "I feel great," he said, smiling. "Mom's gone to the nurse's station to sign my release papers. The doc says I can leave tonight if I want to."

"I don't even have to guess what you told him," Clark said, knowing how much his dad hated being in the hospital. "I, uhh, don't think it's such a good idea to go home right now though."

Jonathan squinted. "Is there a problem with the house? Do you need more material?"

"No," Clark said. "I'm pretty much done—and Lana did a great job cleaning up the kitchen, but—"

Martha walked in and greeted everyone, waving a stack of release papers. "You're set to go, sweetheart."

"Great, Martha," Jonathan said, sitting up. "Would you mind shutting the door? Clark has something he needs to tell us." He nodded for Clark to go on.

Clark hesitated—they worried too much as it was. "Okay, don't freak out, but Lex just tried to jump us again," he said. "I think we all need to get away from Smallville until we can figure out what to do about him."

Lana felt Martha's brief glance at her. "I'm sorry, but I wasn't able to help out this time," Lana said. "Lex cut the power and I couldn't focus on anything in the dark."

Martha put her arm around Lana. "It's alright, I didn't mean to put so much pressure on you before," she said. "And after talking to Jonathan about what's been going on with you, well . . . " She looked to her husband.

"Lana, I'm just not sure I feel comfortable with you putting yourself in such dangerous situations," Jonathan said. "It's true that Clark has a weakness to Kryptonite, but other than that, he's, well . . . immortal, and you're not. You can really get hurt."

Lana nodded. "I know that, Mr. Kent," she said, trying to appear confident. "But I've been working on some things this afternoon, and—" She stretched her arm out toward the corner of the room, raising a chair nearly to the ceiling without so much as pausing to take an extra breath. "I'm comfortable that I can control my power now."

Clark beamed with pride as both his parents gawked at the chair, then back to Lana. "Wow!" they both said.

"Lana, that's amazing," Martha said with a smile. "Not even Clark has mastered something so quickly."

"Yeah, yeah," Clark said. "Rub it in, why don't you?"

Lana shifted her weight and bumped Clark with her hip, trying not to smile. "She didn't mean it that way."

Martha and Jonathan looked down to Lana's leg at the same time. "Where's your cast?" Martha asked.

"She, uhh, put her leg back together," Clark said, wrapping both arms around Lana. "And let me be the first to say that 'not even Clark' can do THAT."

Jonathan's mouth dropped. "Well, then, I stand corrected—it's sounds like you're very capable," he said. "But I still want you two to avoid trouble when you can."

"That's exactly what we plan to do," Clark said, becoming serious again. "We need to hurry though, before Lex figures out where we've gone. And I need to get you both somewhere safe so I don't have to worry about him using you as bait."

"Us?" Martha asked. "Where will you and Lana be?"

"We'll figure that out," Clark said.

Clark's parents both nodded. "Where do you have in mind for us?" Jonathan asked.

Clark swallowed, unsure about how they'd react to his idea. "I think I should take you to, uhh, the arctic."

"What?" all three of his onlookers asked.

"I know it sounds crazy, but the temperature in the fortress is perfect—you could stay there for as long as you needed to—as long as I brought you more food and clothing," Clark said.

"And how do you plan on getting us there?" Jonathan asked. "Didn't you say you got lost on the way back to Smallville?"

"Thanks for reminding me, but I'm not going to fly you there," Clark said. "It would take too long—I can run faster than I can fly right now, and the journey would be too cold for you. I'll need to send you there through the cave."

"Through the cave?" Lana asked. "Why didn't you just come back that way, rather than fly?"

Clark gave her a solemn nod. "Good question," he said. "Jor-El sealed the portal—he said I had to fly if I wanted to get home." He glanced at Jonathan. "Fathers have a way of making you grow up whether you want to or not."

Jonathan laughed, and Clark knew it was the first time Jor-El had been the subject of a joke. "Let's get going then." Jonathan said.

Martha walked over to get Jonathan's clothes so he could change, and Clark took Lana's hand. "We'll meet you two at the cave in ten minutes—drive straight there, okay?" he said. "We'll get you some food, bedding and clothes. And I need to get the key . . . " Clark stopped, feeling like a Kryptonite train just hit him, "the key . . . where's the key?" He asked himself the question out loud several times, searching his pockets, even though he knew it wasn't there. "I left the KEY in the cave!"

Before anyone could react, Clark super-sped out, then returned a few minutes later. "It's not there—Lex must have found it when I was transported during the meteor shower."

Part 26:

"I need to get the key back—now!" Clark said, wanting to bang his head against the wall for not thinking about the key sooner. "How could I be so stupid?"

Jonathan and Martha looked at each other like they agreed with Clark—how could he be so stupid?

"What's the 'key' to?" Lana asked, confused about the sudden panic.

"I'll have to explain it when we have more time," Clark said, taking her hand and starting to leave. "Mom, Dad, I'll still take care of everything, but you'll need to hide the truck somewhere when you get to the cave. We'll be there as soon as possible. And please ask someone to take care of the farm for the next week, I have no idea when we'll return."

"Son, it's too dangerous for you to go after that key. Lex knows too much now," Jonathan said, the farm being the last thing on his mind.

Clark stopped, turning back with a look of determination. "Dad, the longer Lex has that key, the more dangerous he becomes. Don't forget what happened to Dr. Walden," he said. "He gained several Kryptonian powers, as well as the ability to read the cave walls."

There was nothing more to argue about. Clark swept Lana up in his arms again and walked through the halls toward the exit. Once outside, Clark looked around and said, "You ready? Hold on."

Instead of flying, Clark super-sped to the woods outside of Luthor Mansion. It seemed that no time at all had passed, and Lana was disoriented for a moment. "How did we get here?" she asked.

"I ran," Clark answered, smiling. "Pretty cool, huh?"

"VERY cool," she said. "Only I missed it somehow. You must've covered five miles in less than five seconds."

"Something like that," he said. "I told you I can run faster than I can fly. And I would've been quicker about getting the love letters from between your mattresses, but I forgot about Lex's ring that you'd tossed near your bedroom."

"What did you do about it?" Lana asked, surprised she'd forgotten about the ring.

"Threw the top mattress over it and got out of there as soon as I could," he said. "I left a bit of a mess, sorry."

"Well, it was worth it to read your journal," Lana said, kissing Clark. "So, how are we going to get this key back?"

"Good question," he said. They walked to the edge of the woods, and Clark scanned the mansion. He was careful not to miss anywhere and it took a few minutes. Clark suddenly smiled. "Well, at least this proves that Lex doesn't know about my x-ray vision."

"Why? Where is it?" Lana asked.

"Definitely somewhere that would take a normal person much too long to search for," he said. "It's hidden in one of his thousands of books."

"It's not in a safe?" Lana asked. "I guess he learned his lesson with the stone, and he probably thought that was the first place you'd look again."

"It appears that way," he said, shaking his head at how easy it was to find the key—his x-ray vision had increased in detail with his trip to the arctic. He started walking closer to the mansion then stopped, looking down at Lana. "Don't take this wrong, okay? But maybe my dad's right. I don't want to put you in any danger." He'd felt better about her abilities since this afternoon, but now that it was crunch time, he couldn't convince himself that she'd be safe.

Lana put a hand on her hip. "Clark, we've already been through this. Please have a little more faith in me."

Clark gave a reluctant nod, then had to think through the easiest plan possible. He was used to working alone, with little fear of getting hurt. "Okay, the first thing we need to do is take out the security cameras," he said. "And pretty much all at once."

"Done," Lana said. "There's four of them on this side of the estate. I've been here enough that I could take them out with my eyes closed."

"Good, because it's about that dark," Clark said, giving an impressed smile. "As soon as you're done, grab a hold of me."

Lana looked on the ground and selected four round rocks—about the size of quarters. "I've never had a great aim, but after that knife incident, my confidence has grown a bit."

Clark was standing behind Lana, and just as she was starting to focus—arms outstretched, Clark leaned down and whispered against her neck. "You know, I kind of like this knife-hurling, rock-tossing side of you."

"Okay, sweetheart," she said, patting the side of his face. "That's NOT helping."

Clark smiled and kissed her cheek. "Did you just call me 'sweetheart'?"

Lana dropped her arm and looked at him, trying not to laugh. "Clark, you may have broken into mansions more times than you can count, but this happens to be my first time—so . . . "

"Okay, okay," he said, giving her a good luck squeeze and backing off a bit. "Let's do this."

Lana re-refocused and raised both arms, two rocks in each. She concentrated on one camera at a time—the rocks speeding through the air like arrows—piercing each camera with a solid shot. It was all done in less than three seconds, then she grabbed onto Clark and he flew them straight to a window outside the second floor library above Lex's study.

"Forth shelf up, fifth book from the left," Clark said as they hovered outside the window. "It's red with black lettering. Can you see it?"

Lana nodded. "What should I do with it?"

He knew she was capable of sending it through the window and into his hands, but that would set off the alarms. Just as he was about to say something, the sound of Lex's Mercedes was approaching and they both turned toward the noise. Clark lost his concentration and dropped them a few feet. "Okay, we've only got a moment longer," he said, returning to their previous elevation. "Do you think you can send the book through the fireplace and out the chimney?" He knew it was a long shot, since she wouldn't be able to see anything past the fireplace, but it was worth a try.

"I sure hope so," she said, reaching toward the window and focusing just as hard as she had when she healed her leg. The book came off the shelf with ease, then she steered it toward the fireplace. With one sharp surge down her arm, she sent the book straight up the chimney.

Clark flew to the roof in an instant, where they both ran to the chimney. "Where is it?" Lana asked in disappointment, spinning around. "Where did it go?"

Clark used his x-ray vision to search the roof, then super-sped to where it was. He ripped open the book to find the key and breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

"Let's get out of here," Lana said, jumping on Clark's back—then they flew off into the dark night sky.

Just moments later, Lex walked into his study and peered up to the library shelves, looking for the book he'd been compulsive about checking on since he found the key in the cave. His knees locked when he noticed its absence and he sped up the stairs to make sure he wasn't imagining things. A slew of curse words flew out of him—but he knew exactly where Clark was headed, and Lex's thugs had just planted a surprise for him.

Part 27:

After ten minutes of rushing around the Kent home, gathering as much as they could carry, Clark and Lana were off again. With Lana balancing a box of ready to eat food, and Clark with his backpack on, lugging a suitcase stuffed with clothing, pillows and blankets—it was a miracle they made it to the caves without being pegged by the Air Force as a UFO. Clark had at least changed into all black clothes this time—and even though it reminded Lana of a dark time in Metropolis, Clark was looking so good she wished they weren't in such a hurry.

At the last minute—to lighten the mood, Lana suggested they bring along the kitchen broom and pretend to ride it to the caves, just for kicks. The witch joke got only a brief chuckle from Clark—his mind was on too many things, including what he'd just hidden in his pocket.

When they approached the cave entrance, Jonathan and Martha stepped from behind some bushes. "Thank heavens you're all right," Martha said.

"Don't go in the cave, son," Jonathan said in a stern command.

"Why?" Both Clark and Lana asked.

"When we arrived, there was a white long-bed 4x4 parked out here, so we waited to see what the men were up to," Jonathan said. "They unloaded what appeared to be the same large artifacts from China you described being in Lex's vault the day of the meteor shower."

Clark's shoulders slumped and he looked at Lana. "They've got Kryptonite for eyes, and they're much too heavy for you to move," he said. "But we've got to get in that cave."

"I could TRY to move them, Clark," Lana said.

"Lana, they're at least a thousand pounds each—it will drain everything out of you," he said. "I think there's another way, I'll just have to think about it for a minute."

Lana lowered her head, wondering how Clark knew how much strength it took for her to levitate things that size. The chair in the hospital had been easy for the first thirty seconds or so—the same with the beam, but she knew she couldn't last if she had to move several large artifacts like the ones Lex had showed her a few months ago.

Clark stepped behind Lana and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. "Believe it or not, even I get tired, Lana. We'll figure something out."

Martha was the one who finally broke the heavy silence. "Clark, what about the lead aprons from the hospital?"

Clark suddenly smiled and took off.

Lana shook her head. "Does he ALWAYS do that to you guys—no goodbye or anything?"

Jonathan laughed. "Yeah, you better get used to it," he said. "Clark's not one for chit-chat once he sets his mind to something."

"I'd say," Lana said. "But how are the lead aprons going to protect Clark from the meteor rocks?"

"Kryptonite can't penetrate lead," Martha said.

"How did you guys figure out all this stuff? I can't imagine that Clark came with an instruction manual," Lana said with a smile.

Martha and Jonathan both laughed. "Don't we wish," Jonathan said. "It's been many years of trial and error—sometimes painful. And it doesn't look to be over any time soon."

Lana nodded, swallowing down the sudden anxiety she felt. What more would Clark have to go through to be who Jor-El wanted him to be? And would she have to give him up for that? She couldn't allow herself to think about it, and shook off her chills.

Clark arrived moments later, with ten lead aprons in tow. "I hope no one needs an x-ray tonight," he said.

"All right, let's get this over with," Jonathan said, grabbing as many aprons as he could manage. Lana and Martha followed, and they turned on the flashlights Clark brought along and went into the cave as Clark waited at the opening.

Finding the large artifacts, scattered along the cave walls—Lana, Martha and Jonathan put aprons over the statue's heads, taking care that the eyes were entirely covered. Lana then called out to Clark and he entered with the key, going straight to its spot on the cave wall.

When the wall came alive with an assortment of colors, Lana gasped. "So this is what the key's for?"

Clark turned and smiled at her. "Did I tell you I can read all this?" he asked, gesturing to the inscriptions with pride. "It's Kryptonian."

The amazing surprises kept coming, and Lana asked the first obvious question. "Can you tell me what the symbol on my back meant?"

Jonathan and Martha didn't mean to break off their bonding time, but . . . "Uhh, Clark, I think we better get moving here."

"Right," Clark said, then whispered to Lana. "I'll tell you all about it later."

The writing on the walls suddenly rearranged, and an opening in the cave appeared. Jonathan and Martha both looked skeptical, eyeing Clark for instructions.

"Okay, I hate to tell you this, but you two are about to become Jor-El's guinea pigs," he said, ushering them closer to the opening. "This is a different passageway to the Fortress than I took, but Jor-El promised it would work for mortals." If it didn't, Clark thought, Jor-El was gonna get his intergalactic butt kicked.

White light illuminated the opening and Clark gave them both hugs. "I'll check in on you as soon as Lana's safe," he said. "Make yourselves at home—you'll be fine, I promise."

"Why can't the two of you come along?" Martha asked.

Clark was hoping that question wouldn't come up in front of Lana. "I have too much to figure out here—including where that spaceship took off to," Clark said. "And, well, Jor-El promised I could send anyone I loved to the Fortress to keep them safe . . . except for my 'protector.'"

"Why?" Jonathan asked, as everyone's eyes went to Lana to see her reaction.

"I'm not sure," Clark said, inching the two of them forward. He hadn't worried too much about that detail when Jor-El said it, imagining his protector to be someone more similar to himself, and definitely not Lana. "Why don't you ask him for me?"

"Will we be seeing him?" Martha asked, her heart speeding up. She'd wanted to give Jor-El a swift slap in the face for years now, but . . .

"I'm sure you three will have some interesting conversations," Clark said, putting his hand near the key, ready to send them through the light. "Just close your eyes—it shouldn't hurt. I love you both." When Clark gave the key a firm push, the light vacuumed up his parents, along with their suitcase and box of food.

Lana screamed at the sight and buried her head against Clark, and he gripped onto her just as tightly. "You know something is definitely messed up in your life when you have to send your parents to the middle of the arctic to keep them safe," he said, taking the key out of the wall—before he forgot about it again.

"What now?" Lana asked, staring up at him with scared round eyes.

Clark kissed her. "Right now, I have something to show you," he said, then walked her over to another section of the wall. "See that bracelet?" Clark asked, pointing up to the elaborate painting Kyla had introduced him too. "It's for the woman I choose to spend my life with."

Lana studied the painting. She smiled, but didn't glance back to Clark—not daring to hope that he would say that woman was her. She then felt something cold wrap around her wrist and looked down in shock to see a bracelet that appeared to be exactly like the one on the cave wall. "Where did you get this?" she asked with a gasp.

"It's from Krypton—brought to the Kawatche tribe long before my arrival in Smallville," he said. "And I know with all my heart, Lana, that it's meant for you."

Part 28:

Lana looked between Clark and the bracelet. "Clark, I wake every day wanting to be the one you choose to be with."

Clark kissed her again, keeping his lips on hers until the right words came. "I love you, Lana, and I hope you understand how committed I am to making our relationship work—to making it last."

She put her hand on Clark's cheek. "I do understand that. And I have faith in us—to make it through whatever life continues to challenge us with."

Clark knew there wasn't a lot of time to waste, but he had a hard time pulling away from Lana. "All right, we better get out of here," he said. "Can you gather up the lead aprons once I'm out of the cave? We need to get them back before we head for Chloe's place."

"Wow, you really are a Boy Scout, aren't you?" Lana said, smiling. Clark left and Lana stood at one side of the cave, summoning the aprons to her one at a time. They were too heavy to carry all at once, so she had to levitate the second pile. She noticed how difficult it was to use both her physical and mental strength at the same time. It was something she'd have to work on.

Just as they were speeding off, Clark glanced back to see two very familiar Halogen headlights approaching the cave. Lex was fortunately too late to see the two of them leave, and for a split second, Clark thought about going back to confront him. Where had their relationship gone so wrong? He guessed he had just as many questions for Lex as Lex had for him. Clark felt a surprising sense of emptiness from the loss and he'd do anything to have a civil, honest conversation with him, but the events of the past few days made that prospect seem impossible.

After a quick trip to the Smallville Medical Center, where Clark super-sped the aprons inside before anyone even noticed they were gone, they stopped by Lana's apartment. "You better pack enough for a few days," Clark said. "I don't know how long we'll be gone."

Lana grabbed a duffle bag and headed toward her bedroom. "What should I do with this ring?"

"Do you still have the lead box that you kept your necklace in?" Clark asked, staying in the other room.

"Yes," she said, taking it out of a drawer of keepsakes and putting the ring inside. "Where should I hide the box?"

Lex was likely to search Lana's apartment sometime soon, so it wouldn't be safe there. "This sounds crazy, but I think we should take it with us," Clark said.

"You're right, that is crazy," Lana said, stuffing as much as she could into her bag. "Why?"

"Call it a hunch," Clark answered, thinking he really was losing his mind for dreaming up what he planned to do with it—if given the chance.

"Whatever you say," Lana said, shutting the box and placing it in a separate pocket of her duffle bag.

Once she was done packing, Clark walked into her bedroom and flipped the mattress up right. He made the bed in half of a second, then looked at it with pride. Lana glanced at the bed on the way out. "Not bad for a guy," she said with a smirk.

"What's wrong with it?" he asked, his hands outstretched.

Lana kept walking, pausing only to flip her hand and rearrange the decorated pillows to look like they should. "Nothing a little pixy dust can't fix," she said.

Clark followed. "You know, with all my abilities—why couldn't I have been blessed with a bit of pixy dust?" he asked.

Lana turned back and took him by the belt loops, pulling him to her. "Probably because you'd look awful in a tutu."

"But I bet you'd look REALLY good in one," Clark said.

"Sorry, Peter Pan," Lana said, wiping off his grin. "Last time I checked, the Disney costume shop wasn't on the way to Metropolis."

"It could be," Clark said, raising his brows. "The world just got a whole lot smaller for us."

"You're completely hopeless," Lana said, dragging him out the door. "What happened to my painfully shy, plaid-wearing farm boy who used to face plant at the site of a girl?"

Clark smiled, securing his backpack, as well as Lana's duffle bag on his back. "He grew up," he said. "And it wasn't just ANY girl that made me face plant—she was a mysterious vixen who had the power to attract men with a single glance."

Lana put one hand on the back of Clark's neck, then jumped into his arms, preparing for him to super-speed them to Metropolis. "Like I said, you're hopeless."

"Yes, I am," Clark said, nodding in mock shame. He then held onto her tightly and sped out of the Talon's front door and toward Metropolis. He stopped every few minutes to make sure Lana was doing all right.

By the time they reached the center of the city, Lana's hair was tangled in knots.

"Remind me to put my hair in a pony tail for our next long-distance journey," she said, then her laughter suddenly turned into a tight cough. "I think I swallowed a bug."

"I wouldn't doubt it. I've done it a lot more than I'd like to admit," Clark said. "But it's okay, we'll just swear off kissing for the next few days."

Lana pulled him to her lips. "Don't even think about it."

While packing at the Kents earlier that evening, Clark had called Chloe and asked if they could camp out at her place that night. She was staying with a friend from the Daily Planet, who was away on vacation, and said there was plenty of room. When they'd arrived at the location Chloe planned to meet them, Lana took the opportunity to tell Clark something that had been on her mind since Chloe spoke with them at the Talon.

"Clark, before Chloe arrives I wanted to ask you a nosy question," Lana said. "Do you plan to tell Chloe about your origin, or is there a reason you're avoiding it?"

Clark took Lana's hands. "I've been avoiding it for a while—I didn't even tell her that I knew she was aware of my abilities," he said. "But it just didn't feel right until I had the chance to tell YOU about everything. And it wasn't that Chloe doesn't deserve to know—she definitely does, but you're the one I'm in love with."

Lana nodded, getting chills from his sincerity. "I can't tell you how much it means to me that you told me your secret when you didn't really need to," she said. "But, if you want my opinion—you don't have to feel pressure from me though—I think Chloe can be trusted to know everything that I do."

"I think so, too," Clark said. "And I think it's time to tell her. I can't expect her to give us the help we're going to need, if I can't prove how much I believe in our friendship."

"Good," Lana said, standing on tiptoes to kiss him.

Chloe came walking out of an alleyway to see the kiss and stopped, reminding herself once again, for the hundredth time since Clark called her, that she could handle this. "Hey, guys."

Clark and Lana turned, instinctively stepping away from each other. "Thanks for coming, Chloe," Clark said as they walked to her.

Chloe's eyes shot down to Lana's leg and her jaw dropped. "Hold on, did I miss something? Like two months of rehab?"

"We've got a lot to talk about, Chloe," Lana said, pulling up her pant leg to expose her skin—cast free. "Let's get to your place."

"Chloe Sullivan, you have now re-entered the Twilight Zone," Chloe said to herself. "For some reason I thought I'd left it behind in Smallville."

Clark put his arm around both girls as they walked back through the alleyway. "Chloe, I hate to tell you this, but things are about to get even stranger."

Part 29:

Just before the three of them were about to enter Chloe's apartment building, Clark noticed a payphone. "Hey, Chloe," he said. "Are you ready to start a whole list of favors I'm about to ask of you?"

Chloe squinted. "What sort of favor are we talking about?"

"Can you still do that impersonation of a deep Southern girl that you used when you'd prank call me in Jr. High?" Clark asked.

"That was YOU?" Lana asked before Chloe had a chance to respond. "You're the one who'd call and wake me in the middle of the night?"

Chloe was going to deny the whole thing, but finally gave in with a shrug. "Well, it's not like you needed any MORE beauty rest," she said. "And, uhh, thanks a lot for exposing me, Clark—but, yes, I think I can summon the voice of 'Bobby Sue'."

"Great," Clark said, stepping up to the payphone and waving the other two over. He took some change from his pocket and explained what Chloe needed to say. He had to go over it a few times, but Chloe felt she had it down by the time Clark dialed the number.

A man on the other side of the line answered. "Smallville Sheriff's Department, Deputy Williams speaking."

"Evenin,' Deputy, I got me somethin' strange to report to ya'll," Chloe said, laying on the drawl like any good Southern backwoods girl would. "Ya see, I's goin' thru y'alls town t'night and I spotted some fellas haulin' goods in a truck that a big news guy reported as missin' from a museum of sorts."

"A museum, you say?" asked the deputy. "The Smallville Museum?"

"Nah—sounded much bigger thun that—the TV guy said thur's a big reward an' every'thang," Chloe said. "So I expect to get my share, ya hear?"

The deputy paused, then Chloe could tell he moved the phone from his mouth before he said in a hurried whisper, "Sheriff Adams, I think I better put this call on the speaker for you." A moment later, there was an echo quality to the phone call and the deputy said, "Can you describe the truck, and where it was heading, miss?"

"Sure can," Chloe said, going on to describe the truck Jonathan and Martha had seen. "It was a long bed, white 4x4—looked like they tried cover'n up the statues, but the tarp blew clean off—hangin' by nothing but a possum's tail. And it was following some hoity-toity silver Mercedes. They turned up a dirt road marked with a post readin' 'Ka-wat-che Caves' or somthin' like that." She said Kawatche like she'd never heard of such a confusing word.

"I'm on it," Chloe heard Sheriff Adams whisper in the background. "There's only one Kawatche Cave 'round here . . . and one silver Mercedes."

"Okay, miss," the deputy said to Chloe. "What I'm going to need is your contact information."

"Yes, sir'ree, sir, this here's Bobby Sue Mayberry from . . . " Chloe made muffled, crackling sounds into the phone.

"Can you repeat that, miss?" the deputy said.

"Bobby Sue . . . " Crackle, crackle . . . then Chloe hung up, laughing so hard along with Clark and Lana that she could hardly stand.

Lana was already on the ground, holding her gut. She took her hand off her mouth and said with a gasp for air, "Bobby Sue, why you're a no-good snitch. Sheriff Adams is gonna put Lex over her lap and swat 'em with a paddle!" Lana's faked Southern accent wasn't nearly as good as Chloe's, but that's what made the moment all the funnier.

"I won't even try to top that," Clark said, remembering Lana's earlier reaction to his cowboy impression. "I just hope Lex is wearing his spurs."

"Okay, that's enough," Lana said, standing. "Chloe I need to use your bathroom before I really embarrass myself."

"Well, stand in line," Chloe said, leading them up a set of stairs. "With all the talk of Lex over the Sheriff's knee, I need to puke."

Ten minutes later, Lana and Chloe relaxed on the couch and Clark plopped down into a Luv Sac. "This is a sweet place," Clark said. "Are you gonna live here?"

"I might," Chloe said, "but for now, I'm just apartment sitting for the next week. So, like I told you earlier, no one knows where I'm staying, and I'm not expecting my dad to call for another few days—he's still working on that project in Mozambique for that chemical company. You two should be safe here."

It was then that both Clark and Lana's smiles disappeared, remembering the seriousness of their situation. "Chloe, we really appreciate you helping us," Lana said. "I know our call came as a shock, especially since we'd just spoken to you this afternoon, but after you left today, Lex broke into my apartment and threatened me."

"What?" Chloe asked with a gasp.

"It gets worse," Lana said. "When Clark came, Lex pulled a gun on him."

Chloe stood up. "Whoa." She walked around for a bit, then paused in front of Clark. "Okay, Kent, tell me you didn't have to do anything crazy in front of Lex. I can't imagine what he'd do if he knew about your abilities."

"Actually, I couldn't do anything, because Lex not only knows about my abilities," Clark said, "but he also knows about my reaction to meteor rocks."

"But how?" Chloe asked, then hit her head with her hand. "I bet it's from the security tapes from the day of the meteor shower."

Clark nodded. "Probably. He said he has me pulling off his vault door on tape—so he'd have also see my subsequent moaning on the ground. But I think it may be even more than that." This took Lana by surprise. Clark hadn't mentioned any other theories to her. He went on. "When Lex had that accident at Luthor Corp a while ago—the one that split him in half—I'm not convinced that the 'good Lex' ever came back. He just hasn't been the same."

"Okay, I'm with you there," Chloe said. "Based on that assumption—where do the meteor rocks come in?"

"Well, during that time, the bad Lex must've witnessed me having a reaction to the rocks in the lab, because he showed up in my loft with a Kryptonite ring and threw me out the second story of the barn," Clark said. "I think it's possible that bad Lex came out on top and remembers everything that happened. I'm not sure anything remains of the man I once called my friend—even though he's tried at times to make me think otherwise."

"A Krypto-what ring?" Chloe asked.

"Kryptonite—that's the official term for the meteor rocks," Clark said. "But we'll get to all that in a minute—I promise."

"Whatever," Chloe said. "So you think the good side of Lex is gone forever, and now all he cares about is killing off his friends?"

"Apparently," Clark said, still in self-denial that this was Lex they were talking about. "I just wish he'd calm down enough to talk to me—but I can't get close enough. And any phone call I make to him could be traced."

"Well, then, Mr. Speedypants, why not call from somewhere else besides Metropolis?" Chloe suggested.

Lana smiled as wide as Clark. "Great idea, Chlo," Lana said. "Maybe you shouldn't get too crazy though, Clark, or he'll figure out what you're doing."

Clark nodded. "It's worth a try. I'll call when I'm on my way to check on my parents."

"Where are they?" Chloe asked.

Clark and Lana looked at each other, and Clark knew it was time to give Chloe what she deserved. "They're, uhh, staying with my biological father up north."

"North as in Chicago, or north as in Canada?" Chloe asked, irritated by his usual elusiveness.

He cleared his throat. "North as in as far as you can go—the arctic," he said.

"Okay, now you've really lost me," Chloe said, giving a skeptical grin. "Are you trying to say that you're half elf and that's why you can do all these amazing things—because I'm not that gullible."

Clark looked at Lana and she gave him a nod of encouragement. "Lana made the Santa Claus connection as well," Clark said, standing up and starting to pace. "I'm obviously not very good at this yet."

"Duh," Chloe said, regretting it when she saw Clark's white face. "I'm joking, Clark." She glanced between he and Lana. "Okay, I guess this isn't a laughing matter . . . I'll shut up now."

"You know, I think I'll go shower and leave you two to talk," Lana said as she stood from the couch and grabbed her duffle bag on the way to the bathroom. She felt like she needed to show Chloe more respect. She'd been waiting for this news as long as Lana had.

Clark and Chloe were both silent for a few moments. Clark finally stopped pacing and sat next to Chloe on the couch. "All right, as soon as I tell you this, you might completely freak out and look at me like I'm growing an extra set of arms," Clark said. "So just think of the wildest possible explanation for my powers—which, I'll tell you right now, were NOT caused by the meteor rocks—and let me have it."

Chloe was suddenly not in the mood for games but could tell how nervous Clark was, so she played along. "All right . . . your real name is Harry Potter and you grabbed onto the wrong port key at Hogwarts and ended up in Smallville."

Clark shook his head. "Good one, but no. I'm not a wizard."

"Darn!" Chloe said. "That was my favorite theory." She bit both her lips, trying to think up another one. "Here's my next one, you ready? It's semi-serious—you said to think crazy, right?"

"Right. As crazy as you can."

"Okay, here goes," Chloe said. "I've been wondering for a while now—with all the strange occurrences—like you disappearing for extended periods of time, if you weren't being abducted by aliens and that they were giving you more abilities with each episode." Clark gulped loud and Chloe instantly backtracked, feeling really stupid. "Well you said to think of the CRAZIEST explanation, so there. I'm sorry . . . but some people DO believe in that stuff."

"So, if that were true," Clark said without a skip. "How would you feel about me?"

Chloe felt her arms go numb. "I . . . I guess I'd think it was kinda cool. Really cool, in fact," she said. "I mean, wow, I'd want you to tell me all about it—not so I could write up a story or anything, unless of course you wanted me to, but . . . are you serious?" She just stared at Clark, waiting for him to respond with anything but laughter.

"So it wouldn't freak you out to know that your best friend has been on another planet—Krypton, for example?" Clark asked.

"No, not at all," Chloe answered with excitement.

"And how would you feel if I told you I was born there?" Clark asked, then held his breath for what seemed to be an eternity.

Part 30:

"BORN there?" Chloe asked with a crooked smile. "Clark, you couldn't have been BORN there. I mean, look at you—you're completely human. But I think it's possible that you may have been abducted as a baby and raised on another planet for a time. Have you ever considered that? . . . But then how would you get back here?" Chloe continued rattling off questions to herself, anything to explain what she'd just heard.

Clark didn't expect this reaction—screaming, fear, cries of deception—maybe, but not this. "For once, Chloe, believe it or not, I'm telling you the absolute truth about myself."

Chloe squinted her eyes and examined Clark from several angles. "Please don't do that. It makes me feel like you're looking for extra sets of eyes—I'm physically just like any other guy, okay." Clark said.

"Yeah, right. Like I'd ever believed that," Chloe said with a short laugh. "And if you're an alien, then I know more than a few females who'd die for Earth to get invaded by guys like you. C'mon, Clark, I don't really see you in the role of E.T." She picked up his hands. "Nope, not a single one of your fingers is glowing."

Clark was getting a bit irritated now. "All right, Chloe, it's obvious that you're not willing to believe me, so let's just stick with your Harry Potter theory," he said, then pointed to the bathroom. "And while we're at it, we should probably get my sidekick Hermione out here, 'cuz she can whip up some really great spells for you."

From the bathroom, Lana could hear the tone of Clark's voice change. She turned off the water and dried off, wondering if she should interfere.

Chloe was taken aback by Clark's sudden frustration. "I'm sorry, Clark," she said. "I wasn't trying to upset you."

"You're the last person I expected skepticism from—I mean, c'mon, you're the purveyor of the wall of weird. And I'm about as weird as they come, all right?" Clark said, pacing again. He finally turned back and saw that he'd hurt her much more than she had him. He dropped to his knees in front of the couch. "Chloe, you know me—do you think I'd joke about something like this?"

Chloe suddenly felt like all of the Earth's gravity was pulling her to the floor. She shook her head slowly, realizing for the first time that Clark was telling the truth. "Oh my . . . " She stood, walking to the bathroom door and tapping on it rapidly. "Umm, Lana, can you come out here, please?"

Lana hesitated, then opened the door, drying her hair with a towel.

Chloe surprised both Lana and Clark with one of her enormous grins. "Lana, CLARK IS FROM ANOTHER PLANET!" Chloe was aware that she wasn't telling Lana anything new, but she just wanted to say it out loud—to someone . . . anyone.

Lana smiled at her reaction. "Kind of a shocker, isn't it?"

Clark was still on his knees and face planted into the couch in a stupor of confusion. He was glad he'd live a really long life—he'd need that much time to figure out girls.

Chloe took Lana's hands and led her to Clark. "Do you have any idea how COOL that is? That is SO cool. So SO cool." Chloe kept repeating it over and over again.

Lana sat on the couch and lifted Clark's head so she could see him. "Our little friend Chloe is in a COOL coma. What should I do about that?"

He dropped his head again onto Lana's knee and she ran her fingers through his hair while she watched Chloe walk around the room with a smile that couldn't have been wiped off with extra-strength Windex.

For a minute there, Lana thought she'd have to make room for Chloe to do some Tom Cruise couch jumping. "All right, Chlo. Let's talk about this for a minute, shall we?" She received no response at all as Chloe continued to mumble to herself about how COOL it was that her friend was from another planet.

Finally, Lana thought of a way to get her attention. She stretched out her arm and summoned the Luv Sac from across the room. It zoomed along the floor and knocked Chloe right off her feet, landing her in a pile of soft fluff. "What the heck?" Chloe said, looking around for the invisible culprit.

"Sorry, I know tonight is supposed to be all about Clark," Lana said. "But it looks like it's time to let you in on another little secret—Isobel is gone, but she left behind a bit of hocus-pocus."

"Shut up!" Chloe said, her eyes growing even larger than before. "Am I the only one without super powers around here?"

"For now, at least," Clark said, his face finally making an appearance. "Hang out with us a while longer and something crazy is bound to happen to you."

Chloe sat up in the Luv Sac, still smiling like this was a surprise party for her. She looked between the two of them, her grin finally fading. "Why am I the only one who's excited about this?" Her eyes stopped on Lana. "Don't tell me this freaks you out."

Lana shook her head, sitting next to Clark on the floor and leaning against him. "Not at all—at least not the part about Clark being from Krypton, or his abilities," she said. "I'm just kinda nervous about the future—there's a lot of questions still hanging out there."

Chloe got a funny grin on her face, which always meant trouble for someone. "Like if you two can have kids together—'cuz that's definitely questionable," Chloe said. "I mean, I don't know if you've had blood work done, Clark, but you're most likely an entirely different species—which is awesome, but—"

Clark felt like his gut had been ripped out. He didn't want Lana to consider those types of questions yet.

"No, Chloe," Lana said, sensing Clark's level of discomfort. "That has nothing to do with why I'm nervous. Clark and I haven't even discussed things like that—and when we do, trust me, the word 'species' is not going to be part of the conversation. To me, Clark is exactly the same guy I fell in love with, and no amount of blood work could sway my decision to be with him."

Clark couldn't help but look at Lana, wanting to continue the conversation. But this wasn't something he thought they should discuss in front of someone else. He turned back to Chloe, and said, "I hate to leave while the topics are heating up, but I have to check on my parents. Lana will explain everything else to you."

"There's more?" Chloe asked, looking to Lana.

Lana nodded. "For starters—Clark isn't the only alien I've met."

"Okay, I'm starting to feel like this is some kind of practical joke you two are playing on me," Chloe said. "It's like I've died and gone to investigative reporter's heaven!" She raised her hands. "But don't worry, nothing leaves my lips, nor my fingers—you guys know me better than that, right?"

"Chloe, by telling what we have, we're trusting you with our lives," Clark said, standing. "So, yes, we know you'd never betray us." He helped Chloe out of the Luv Sac, giving her a long, tight hug. "It feels great to have all this in the open."

Chloe nodded against him. "Yes, it does!" she said. "Hurry back."

Lana walked Clark to the door and they stood on the porch, out of Chloe's view. "Clark, I'm not sure that you should go by yourself," Lana said. "I know Jor-El said I couldn't come, but what if I stood outside of the fortress?"

Clark held her close. "I promise I'll be all right. I'll run as far as I can, then I'll fly the rest of the way," he said, knowing Sheriff Adams wasn't fast enough to have those Kryptonite statues out of the cave yet. "It will only take me a few hours. Get some rest, okay?"

"Yeah, right," Lana said, kissing him. "Please be careful."

After Clark super-sped away, Lana stepped back inside, shutting the door behind her. "Can you give me a sec, Chlo?" she asked, heading straight to the bathroom.

Chloe could see the worry on Lana's face and wished there was a way to help. Sometimes girls just needed a good cry though, so she sat on the couch for the next ten minutes until Lana came out, wiping her red eyes. "If you don't feel like talking, we can wait," Chloe said.

"No, it's okay," Lana said. "I'm just worried about him being alone—so I should probably tell you why."

By the time the girls were starting their conversation, Clark was already in Nebraska. He stopped just short of where he figured he could've driven between that time and when he and Lana were last seen by Lex in the loft. He wanted to give Lex the illusion that they were running from him, so he'd stop looking around Smallville and avoid Metropolis all together.

Clark found a pay phone, then dropped in some change, trying Lex's office phone first—where he was more likely to be able to trace the call.

Lex looked at his caller ID, and not recognizing the number, he hesitated, then finally picked up. "Yes?" he asked, not wanting to reveal his identity if the caller dialed him by mistake.

Clark swallowed, closing his eyes and begging for the right worlds. "Lex, we need to talk."

Part 31:

As soon as Lex heard Clark's voice, he pushed a button to alert his security that he needed the call traced. He sat upright. "This is a dangerous game you're playing, Clark," he said. "You know I always win."

"If you want me to play your game, I need to know the rules," Clark said. "Otherwise, your win can only come by way of cheating. And I know you'd never be satisfied with that."

"You want rules?" Lex asked. "Okay, here's the first one—thou shalt not steal."

Clark laughed. "As long as you're issuing commandments, how about, thou shalt not kill?" he asked. "Would you mind explaining why my best friend is attempting to murder me?"

"Because you're dangerous, Clark," Lex answered without hesitating. "You always have been, it's just taken me a while to discover how to do you in."

"With meteor rock?" Clark asked, trying to sound confident. "Maybe if you stuck around long enough, you'd see that the rocks only weaken me while they further feed my abilities."

Lex didn't know how to respond, pondering the possible truth of that. "Oh, c'mon, Clark," he said. "We both know there has to be a lethal dose—it's only a matter of time before I find out how much."

Clark tried to pretend that he wasn't affected by this cold threat, but he couldn't do it. "Lex, what's happened to us? Why have you turned on me?"

"You're the one who ruined our friendship, Clark," Lex said. "You've lied to me since the day we met. You've stolen my most valuable possessions, and I WANT THEM BACK!"

"Lex, let me save you some time, here," Clark said with a tone of arrogance. "The stones are GONE, all of them. GONE, GONE, GONE! I threw them so far off the edge of the Earth that no one will ever find them again. I wanted their influence to leave our lives forever! So do yourself a favor and stop obsessing over them."

"More lies!" Lex shouted, but he could hear the honest, determined quality to Clark's voice.

"And as for lying to you since the day we met—okay here's the truth," Clark said, with more emotion than he'd intended. "I saved your waste of a life that day, and I've saved your waste of a life at least a dozen times since. So how can that classify me as anything but a friend, even if I've had to lie to you about how I've done it?"

"Meteor freaks aren't friends, Clark," Lex said, feeling nothing in his heart but ice. "They're demons."

Between Clark's heavy breaths, he could hear some commotion on Lex's side of the phone call. Then the voice of Sheriff Adams became clear. "Mr. Luthor, I need to take you in for some questioning. And there are some mighty angry Chinese diplomats on their way with a search warrant." The line went dead.

Clark could almost feel the blood drain out of Lex's face. He wanted to give a smug smile of satisfaction, but it wouldn't come. He held the receiver in his hand listening to the steady dial tone, until the automatic operator's voice came on and asked if he'd 'like to make a call.' He couldn't help but pay homage to Chloe's earlier joke. "E.T. phone home," Clark said flatly, then hung up.

He leaned against the uneven brick wall of a building and looked to the stars for answers. He was certain he already had one, however. Lex was not the same as he once was, and it was surely a result of the lab accident at Luthor Corp. There was nothing left of his friend, and Clark couldn't help but mourn his loss. He'd do anything to bring the real Lex back into his life—flaws and all. At least the former Lex was always fighting his innate selfish desires, but this new Lex was evil to the core.

Hitting the brick wall and leaving an unintended crack, Clark finally snapped out of his stupor and flew toward the north—straight north.

"I'm so confused," Chloe said, shaking her head to rid the clouds between her ears. It felt like everything Lana said was echoing. "How can YOU be Clark's 'protector'? I mean, I know you can move a few things around, but—" They'd already discussed Lana seeing the spaceship, hearing the voice, Lana accidentally using her powers, healing her own leg . . . just about everything that had happened during the day. Lana didn't plan to tell Chloe about Genevieve, however. That would remain she and Clark's burden alone.

Lana shrugged. "That's the same question I've been asking myself," she said, wishing Chloe would stop looking at her with her nose scrunched up in doubt. "I mean, I guess Clark could be wrong—maybe the person he sensed in his visions was someone else."

"But didn't you just say that your powers first popped up when you thought Clark was in danger?" Chloe asked, unable to make up her mind. "That sounds pretty protector-like to me."

"Well, I've felt something strange bubbling inside me ever since Isobel left, but that's true—nothing happened until Lex threatened to kill Clark," Lana said.

"Not even when Lex first threatened YOU?" Chloe asked.

Lana shook her head. "I know it's strange," she said. "I mean, I was really scared, but not like I was when . . . " Lana trailed off remembering the gun and the ring next to Clark's heart. "I'm sorry I'm acting like such a drama queen, but I've never been so afraid in my life," Lana continued, her chin trembling. "What if I really am the one who has to help Clark fulfill his destiny—what if I fail? What if I'm forced to give him up so he can do whatever it is his biological father says he's meant to do?"

Chloe didn't know how to answer any of those questions, and for the first time in her life she was glad she wasn't Lana Lang. She took Lana's hand. "Whatever role you play in Clark's life, I'll be right beside you for support, okay?" she said. "You both mean the world to me and I'll do anything I can to help."

When Clark arrived at the Fortress of Solitude, he felt its peace immediately. And that wasn't all that made him smile—his parents were lying comfortably in the large king-sized bed Clark had made.

He moved quietly so he wouldn't disturb them, but his mother woke just as he approached. "Clark, thank heaven you made it here all right," she said.

"Why were you worried about me?" he asked. "You're the ones who were vacuumed to the North Pole."

"We're fine," she said, sitting up. "I just can't believe how wonderful this place is—and how warm."

Clark nodded with pride, looking around at the solid walls of ice that held in the current of warm air he'd made with his heat vision. The walls didn't even drip from the warmth. "I can't take all the credit—Jor-El tutored me a bit. Otherwise, I'm afraid you'd be staying in nothing more than an igloo."

Martha touched the bed, poking the see-through material and watching it bounce up again. "What is this stuff? It feels like Jell-o, but I'm not sinking into it."

"It's Kryptonian—a lot of this stuff is," Clark said. "When I combined the elements, the crystal they made penetrated the ice and brought out all sorts of weird stuff that was hidden in the Earth. And somehow, I knew what to do with all of it. That's how I made the chamber where I could talk to Jor-El whenever I wanted to." Clark glanced to the large ice chamber that looked a lot like a luxurious steam shower. "Have you tried it out yet?"

Martha shook her head. "Your father and I decided we'd wait. I'm not sure what to say right now," she said. "You know how I feel about Jor-El."

"Yes, but I now know exactly how he feels about the two of you," Clark said. "We had some good chats while I was here, and he's finally happy with the way I've turned out. He even went as far as to say that it's because of the way my parents have raised me."

"Really?" Martha asked, stunned. "Then maybe we'll venture into the 'chamber' tomorrow."

"I think it's a good idea," Clark said. "I stopped in Canada and brought some more food up—it should last you a few extra days. Is there anything else you need?"

"Not a thing," Martha said. "Thanks for remembering your dad's heart medication."

"Is he doing all right?" Clark asked, looking over at Jonathan who was snoring peacefully.

Martha pulled the covers a little higher on him. "Perfect. He's just as impressed as I am with this place. He even said he's always wanted a vacation home, but never expected to have a place that was so spectacular."

Clark gave a soft laugh, trying not to wake his father. "Well, I don't expect we'll be selling time shares or anything, but it's a pretty cool crib. And I know you'll be safe here."

"We're fine, son," Martha said. "Why don't you get back to Lana? You two seem very happy together."

"We are. And when this is all over, I don't want her to worry about another thing for the rest of her life," Clark said. "I can't stand to see her so concerned about me. Everything feels so out of my control right now."

Martha took Clark's hand, giving it a squeeze. "The only thing you can't control is how much she loves you, Clark. LET her love you. LET her do all she can to protect you," she said. "If you do that, I know that everything will fall in it's proper place. I feel it in my heart."

Clark gave his mom a hug. "Well, your heart has never been wrong," he said. "And it's surely believed in me more times than I deserved."

The two of them talked a while longer, then Clark gave her a quick explanation of where he and Lana were staying and how he was trying to throw Lex off his trail. "I'll be back soon," he said, flying out the top of the fortress, and leaving his mother in awe.

When Clark arrived back in Metropolis at 3 AM, he discovered Lana waiting up for him on the couch. They had a nice reunion, then Lana joined Chloe in the bedroom, sleeping in a twin bed on the opposite side of the room.

Clark nestled into the couch—completely exhausted, and fell asleep within minutes. An hour later, he awoke to Lana's terrified screams—piercing the still of the night.

Part 32:

Clark sped into the bedroom to find Lana thrashing around—still screaming. All at once, Lana went completely limp, breathing heavily as she lay there without a twitch. Chloe, who had bolted upright at the first scream, joined Clark in a questioning stare.

"I've heard her cry out in the night before," Chloe whispered, "but never like that."

As Clark sat on the bed, waiting to see if Lana would wake, he remembered Chloe once telling him that Lana had frequent nightmares, but he was certain this was anything but typical. Clark worried that Lana was having more memories from Isobel's past—and he was right.

Lana's mind was deep in the middle ages of France, and though she screamed at the spiraling sensation of being pulled into Isobel's memories, this fresh scene felt anything but dark.

The sun poured upon a young Isobel's face as she played with her two year old daughter, Marguerite, in a flower patch. Isobel's husband had died of the plague shortly before Marguerite was born, but they were left with enough of a fortune—Edmond Theroux having been a well-endowed Count—that their situation was not in the least unpleasant.

Except for the loss of an adult companion, who had certainly not been as charming as Isobel had dreamed of for a husband, Isobel was very content, and the two little maidens were happy in their new life in the French countryside. It was not the common lifestyle of a Countess, but the one in which Isobel had chosen to raise her child—away from the judgmental eyes of Paris society . . . and the constant fear of her family's association with witchcraft catching up to her.

"What's this, Mama?" asked Marguerite in her elf-like high voice, having picked up a treasure from the fresh, damp soil.

Isobel smiled down on her. "It's a snail, darling," she said, turning the shell over. "See, there's a little creature inside here."

Marguerite's round green eyes grew large as she looked at the shell. "Is this a home? It's so small!" Her tiny fingers prodded the snail, attempting to see inside the shell. "Where does it cook?"

Isobel's insides warmed and she tried not to laugh at the innocent question. There was nothing more wonderful, she thought, than being a mother. "Why, it must have a miniature little pot and fireplace in here somewhere, mustn't it?" She continued to examine the shell as closely as her daughter. "But perhaps it prefers raw vegetables—"

The two of them jolted at the site of sudden orange flames to the side of them, spinning to see the hay loft in their barn on fire.

Isobel scooped up her daughter and rushed toward the scene, looking around for help from her estate staff—but remembered in a panic that she'd given them a holiday. As the flames grew higher, spreading to the roof, Isobel kept a safe distance and placed her hysterical daughter on her hip. Releasing a frustrated cry, Isobel resigned herself to watching the barn go down. There was nothing she could do on her own, and the fire would not go far. The barn was surrounded by a lake on one side, and a freshly plowed field on the other.

"It's all right, sweetheart," Isobel said, trying to comfort Marguerite as she coddled her. She kept her eyes roving for any sign of the cause—barns did not just spontaneously erupt into flames—not on such a pleasant spring morning as this one.

Then an even stranger event took place. The flames died to a smolder in mere moments. Isobel blinked and took another look. Confirming that all was as it appeared to be, she ran toward the barn, stopping only to set Marguerite in a fenced play yard.

She walked with caution into the barn, then grabbed onto a post to steady herself as she stared at the tall, dark-haired—and very naked—man before her. "Who are you?" Isobel finally found the wits to ask.

This was when Lana gave one last jolt in bed and gasped for air—her eyes opening wide as her heart raced. Clark brought her to his chest and stroked her back. "I'm here, Lana. It was only a nightmare."

Lana pulled back from him, and looked at his familiar silhouette, outlined by the moonlight seeping through the window curtains. "It was you, Clark," she said, still panting for air. "And you were naked."

Both Clark and Chloe couldn't help but crack a smile at this, Clark's being an utterly embarrassed one. "Okay," he said slowly, trying not to feel self-conscious that Lana seeing him naked qualified as a 'nightmare'. "I guess that explains all the screaming."

She gripped his shoulders, remaining serious. "No. It was you—in a barn in France—with Isobel."

Chloe suddenly felt like a major intruder, and climbed out of bed. "I'll get you a glass of water," she said, noticing the dry rasp in Lana's voice.

Neither Clark nor Lana had the capacity to answer. "How could it have been me?" Clark asked.

Lana shook her head. "I don't know, but it was. It had to be," she said, her whole body trembling. "I was in Isobel's mind again, only this time, it felt like I was actually her—but she wasn't capable of magic yet, I could tell." Clark's strong Kryptonian muscles could only manage a weak swallow. "And she had a daughter . . . named Marguerite—who looked like she was only about two years old . . . she had a daughter, Clark! She was a good mother—I could feel how much she loved her. I mean, I've done enough research to know that Marguerite existed, but . . . " Lana was crying without shame, feeling the full range of Isobel's emotions, "to see them together—to see Isobel as an actual person, capable of loving someone." She shivered, retelling the whole vision to him, starting in the flower garden. She finished with, "What happened that turned Isobel's heart so black?"

Clark took Lana in his arms, holding her as she cried against him. "I don't know, Lana. But I swear that I'd tell you if I'd ever been near Isobel before this past year—I've never even been to France." Let alone hundreds of years ago, he thought.

"I don't know how to explain it, but I know what I saw," she said, and for the first time, she came out of her shock enough to realize the state she'd seen Clark in. "And I, uhh, probably shouldn't have mentioned ALL the details."

He laughed. "It's not exactly how I've imagined the moment, but—"

"Yeah, me neither," she said, feeling her face turn hot.

Chloe was resting with her back against the wall, just outside the bedroom door. She'd been there for the last few minutes, trying as hard as she could to stop being so nosy—but it was in her blood. She finally braved the thick air of romance in the room, entering with a casual smile. "Here's your water," she said, placing it on a night stand. "I'll, uhh, just be out on the couch if you need anything else." She grabbed her pillow and blanket.

"You don't need to leave, Chloe," Lana said. "But do you mind if Clark stays in here with us? I'm kind of freaked out right now."

Clark left Lana on the bed, and was back with the Luv Sac and his pillow and blanket from the couch, before Chloe could respond. "There's room for all of us, isn't there?"

Chloe rolled her eyes. "I'd tell you two to just 'get a room,' but it looks like you've already found one," she said, bounding back into her bed and pulling the covers over her head as she rolled to face the wall.

Lana tried to smile. "Chloe, Clark and I slept in separate rooms last night, even though we didn't need to," she said. "There isn't any reason for you to feel uncomfortable."

Chloe didn't answer, repeating, 'Clark is my friend, Clark is my friend, Clark is ONLY my friend,' in her mind over and over again.

Clark and Lana didn't know what else to say to make her relax, so Clark gave Lana a very silent good night kiss and Lana crawled into her bed—and Clark went to the Luv Sac. When it was obvious that Chloe had at last fallen back to sleep, Clark could tell that Lana was still awake and stretched out his hand to find Lana's own hand dangling over the side of the bed. He held it for a minute, his heart pounding deeper and faster than it ever had.

Lana felt his racing pulse as she ran her fingers over his wrist. Her own heart was keeping up the same speed, and Lana was strangely relieved that she hadn't experienced Isobel's memory in the barn last night—when she was very much alone with the real Clark.

Passion was a scary thing, she thought for the first time in her life.

Part 33:

As difficult as it was for Clark and Lana to remain in their separate sleeping spaces, they at last fell into a slumber again, still holding hands until Lana jerked away as she felt herself spiraling—back into another's memory of a spring morning in the blossoming countryside of France.

Lana did not scream this time, subconsciously wanting to return—knowing what she was about to experience. There could only be one thing better than having Clark in her life, and that was having TWO of him. One of which, was not as prone to wearing flannel, or anything, for that matter.

Isobel repeated her question to the naked, mysterious stranger—who stared at her with a dropped jaw as low as her own. "Who are you?" she asked once more.

The man didn't know what to say, he didn't even know why he could understand her language so well—it wasn't Kryptonian. But the ability to speak and understand the many languages of this strange new planet he'd arrived on three weeks ago had come along with his powerful abilities—as promised by his father—with the energy from the unfamiliar sun above him. "I'm called Kal-El," he said with a stammer, still taking in her rare beauty.

He'd seen enough Earth women to believe they were physically not much different from those on Krypton, but he'd never seen one so enchanting. As he'd stood in the hayloft, watching her in the flower patch, he'd discovered an ability he was unaware of—he could shoot fire from his eyes. When he at last realized what he'd done, he put out the fire as quickly as he could, resulting in the burning off of his clothes.

Hearing the gentleness of the stranger's voice, Isobel felt comforted at once. "Is there a reason you're standing naked in my barn?" She'd meant to sound demanding, but she couldn't help her amused smile which defeated her purpose. "Did you start the fire?"

"It was an accident—I, uhh, stayed here last night, and woke when I heard voices," he said. "Then I put the fire out—"

"With your clothes?" Isobel asked, again trying to hide her smirk. It had certainly been a while since she'd seen a naked man, but she couldn't ever recall meeting such an honest one. "Well, in that case, I suppose I should excuse your trespassing and fire-starting, and thank you for risking your life to save this century old barn, of which I should have torn down ages ago."

Kal-El was certain she wasn't entirely serious, but this new type of communication—sarcasm, as he'd been earlier taught by another Earth girl, was not part of Kryptonian culture. He was sure he could get used to it, however, especially if it was coming from someone so breathtaking as the woman before him. In fact, as his eyes started to burn again, he decided he wouldn't mind learning _any_ type of communication from her.

"What are you called?" he asked her.

"Called?" Isobel asked. "Well, I've been _called_ many things, but my name is Isobel."

"Isobel," Kal-El repeated in a whisper.

Isobel noticed Kal-El rubbing his eyes and looking uncomfortable. "Are you all right?" she asked. "Are you ill?"

"No. I don't believe so," he said, walking away from her, where Isobel got a good view of the other side of him—and all of a sudden felt flushed again. "Can I trouble you for some water before I leave?" he asked, feeling very much like he needed to splash it on his face and eyes, rather than drink it.

Strangely disappointed that he planned to leave so soon, she said, "I'll gather some clothes for you as well." With that, she turned with reluctance and went toward the estate staff quarters.

She passed Marguerite on her way, finding her merrily singing to one of her baby dolls. After entering the arrangement of outbuildings where her workforce stayed, she sifted through the wardrobe of her head of staff, whose stature came closest to Kal-El's—though Isobel laughed at that comparison, for she doubted anyone's stature could come close to the young man's who stood in her barn.

"Mercy," she said, laughing and patting her hot cheeks as she thought of him. She reprimanded herself for being so silly—this was a straggler, after all, whom she knew nothing about, apart from his very curious name.

Making a quick trip to her well with a mug, Isobel drew Kal-El some water—only to drop the mug into the deep hole when she heard his voice behind her.

"Thank you—" he'd started to say, then watched the mug fall. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

She faced him with her hand on her heart, feeling its fast pace. "No problem at all, I'll just get another mug while you change." She turned and started walking off, then noticed she still had the clothes under one arm.

Kal-El smiled when she turned back around, obviously embarrassed—that was a well known emotion on Krypton as well—one he was all too familiar with.

"I meant, would you like to change inside?" she asked, not believing she'd said it. She was acting so out of character for herself. It was as if this man had cast a spell on her—which was possible, as she knew—or slipped her a bottle of love potion.

She was completely taken by him. And though he may have indeed been a wizard, she wasn't at all hesitant to see what other forms of magic he could summon in her. _Oh,_ _goodness_, she thought. _He's much too delicious a traveler to turn away. Who would blame me for my hospitality?_

"Thank you," Kal-El said, taking the stack of clothes from her—their skin touching for the first time as their fingers lingered.

Isobel's eyes stayed locked on his—the deepest and purest of blue she'd ever seen. "I—uhh, better fetch my daughter, she's umm . . . just go ahead inside, and we'll be right in."

Kal-El's eyes were burning again. Thoughts of Krypton and his father's critical demands left altogether, and were replaced with an unquenchable desire to hold this woman in his arms. He longed to hear more of her sweet voice, to look into her brilliant green eyes—to keep his fingers brushing against hers. _You're holding onto her hand, you fool. You'll frighten her_. Kal-El reluctantly stepped away with a gentle smile, then walked off to the country manor she'd directed him to . . . taking deep breaths.

Isobel followed an opposite path to gather Marguerite, wondering how her shaking legs could hold her up. "Yes, definitely a love potion," she whispered to herself. "And I do not care one whit! I hope he slips me some more!"

She laughed, then whirled around just before Kal-El stepped into the house. "May I offer you something to eat?"

He stopped with his hand on the latch, a wide grin taking over his face. "Yes, I'd love that."

Lana's reaction when she woke from the dream was quite the opposite from the last time. Before she'd fully come to, she slid off her bed and snuggled beside Clark in the LoveSac—waking him in a very pleasant manner by running her hand slowly up his chest.

"Well, good morning to you, too," Clark said.

Chloe had been awake for an hour now, making them breakfast, but unfortunately stepped inside the doorway at that very moment—cold shivers going down her back. She repeated her mantra as she slugged back to the kitchen: Clark is only your friend.

Lana's eyes fully opened at last, just now realizing that she was no longer dreaming. "Not that I'm complaining, but how did I get here?" she asked with a laugh.

"Good question, and not that I'm complaining either," he answered. "Did you sleep all right?"

Lana couldn't help but nod with a satisfying smile. "I saw you in rather nice form again."

"Man, is Isobel ever going to dress that guy?" he asked, having no other comeback for her.

She pulled back to look at him, studying his features like she'd just done through Isobel's eyes. "Clark, 'that guy's' name happens to be Kal-El."

Clark's breath left him and he sat up, bringing Lana with him. "Are you sure? Did he tell Isobel that?"

Lana gave a reluctant nod, seeing that this information was not well-received. "And I think he started the fire with his eyes—he kept shutting and rubbing them as he looked away—like it was about to happen again."

He fell back into the Luv Sac and glanced away, leaving her sitting above him. "None of this makes sense, Lana," he said, with a sinking feeling. How many more mysteries were there to discover about himself? "I mean, how could I have come to Earth hundreds of years ago? And why wouldn't I remember any of it?"

She put her hand on his cheek, turning his face to her. "Clark, maybe these memories will lead us to understand both of our connections to the stones," she said. "But whatever the case, I'm not frightened by the visions any longer."

Though Clark was happy to hear that, it didn't ease the pit in his stomach. "I think I should ask Jor-El about all this," he said.

Lana thought that might be a good idea and nodded. "You hungry? I can smell Chloe's famous banana pancakes."

They stood and walked out of the room to find Chloe busy with an apron on. "What's this, a bed and breakfast?" Clark asked.

Chloe gave a genuine smile, having snapped out of her momentary sulk. "Well, it's not like I get the opportunity to cook for anyone anymore—so this is more of a treat for myself."

"Yum," Clark said, snatching a pancake right off the griddle and stuffing half of it in his mouth.

"Careful—you'll burn your mouth," Chloe said, thinking of the hot bananas inside the batter—then realizing how stupid it was to say that.

Clark put his hand flat on the griddle where the pancake had been. "You two still have a bit to get used to, don't you?" he said with a pleasant smile, as steam smoldered between his fingers.

"Stop that," Lana said, stepping up and pulling his hand away. "You're making surges go through my arm." She'd tried to make her voice light, but she wasn't joking. Though she knew how to summon her magic now, she still couldn't convince her senses—which controlled her natural reactions—of Clark's invulnerability.

"Sorry," Clark said, stuffing the other half of the pancake in his mouth, then taking his warmed up hand and massaging Lana's shoulders. He swallowed then continued, his mouth still a bit gummy. "It doesn't hurt me though, I promise."

Lana stepped away with a roll of her eyes and sidled up to the counter on a bar stool. "I believe you," she said. "It's just hard to see it sometimes—I don't' know if I'll ever get 'used' to it, Clark."

Clark joined her, uncertain of how to respond. He'd discussed these kinds of things with his parents too many times to count, but somehow he knew he shouldn't compare Lana to his mom right now—girls don't seem to appreciate that.

Part 34:

Chloe turned around, the spatula in her hand. "So, I'm curious, Clark," she asked with one of her Inquisitor-type tones. "What exactly CAN you feel?"

That snapped him out of his stupor. "I can FEEL everything—it just doesn't cause me pain."

"You mean, your skin is just as sensitive as ours?" Chloe asked, stepping over and dropping a stack of pancakes on each of their plates.

"I think so," he answered. "I can't imagine that certain things feel any better to you guys than they do to me."

Lana smiled, slipping her hand under the counter and putting it on his knee, where she already knew he was especially ticklish. "Certain things, huh?" she asked, her previous unease fading.

Clark jumped, prying her hand off. "Hey!"

Chloe turned around. "I did NOT need to see that!"

"Her hand was on my knee," Clark said, realizing how it must have looked from the other side of the counter. "Seriously, please stop assuming our relationship is something it's not—it just bothers me, all right?" His tone was sincere, almost pleading. It was difficult enough to keep things comfortable with he and Lana—and not just physically—he didn't want any outside pressures influencing them.

"Backing off," Chloe said, holding her hands in the air—spatula and all. But it was impossible for her not to think about it. I mean, hello, if SHE was with Clark . . . duh! she said to herself.

After breakfast, when the tension had eased and they'd each said semi-apologies for their emotional reactions this morning, they dug into even more serious topics.

"So, did you speak with Lex on the phone last night?" Lana asked, feeling really selfish that she hadn't asked earlier.

"Yeah," Clark said, his chest feeling the pain again as he told them about the conversation they'd had.

Both Chloe and Lana had to agree that this was not the same Lex who had once been a friend to them—protected them and watched out for their best interests. "Clark, I think you might be right," Lana said. "I don't think the good that was left in Lex ever resurfaced after the Luthor Corp accident."

Chloe nodded. "I've been thinking about it since Lana told me everything last night," she said. "I think we should give him an all expense paid trip to Summerholt."

Clark stood from the counter, putting his hands behind his head. "Don't think I haven't thought about that," he said. "But I don't think that erasing the last year of Lex's life is going to fix the problem. He's been investigating me for much longer than that—and if he really is evil to the core now, it would make things worse when he realizes what's happened."

"Then erase the past five years from him," Chloe said. "Put him back in Metropolis before we even had to meet his sorry . . . " she continued her rant, convinced that it was the best thing to do.

"And what? Do it to Lionel too, and whoever else is around to remind him how much he hated me," Clark said, not hiding his emotion as well as he'd like to. "Nah—I think there might be another way, we just need to find it."

"Well, I've got the whole day off," Chloe said. "Let's get on it."

Just as they'd settled onto the couch and Luv Sac that Clark promptly returned to the living room, there was a knock at the door. "Delivery for Chloe Sullivan," a male voice said.

Clark and Lana both turned their heads to Chloe. "I thought you said no one knew where you were," Clark said.

Chloe shrugged. "Uhh . . . " she was sure no one else besides her friend who owned the place knew where she was, and then it hit her. "Crap. I guess there is one other person—but I don't think we have to—" she cracked the door and peeked out, with Clark right behind her. "Oh my—" she threw open the door, almost smacking Clark in the face, "they're BEAUTIFUL!"

Lana tipped her head to get a better view. Chloe's reaction could mean only one thing. "Who on Earth sent those orchids—and what's his number?" Lana asked with a gasp.

Clark whirled around with a hurt look, but relaxed when Lana came from behind and wrapped her arms around his waist. "I'm joking, sweetheart," she whispered.

His insides warmed to a boiling point—never imagining how good it would feel to have Lana call him pet names. It was silly for him to like it so much, he thought, but in a strange way it was starting to feel normal.

Chloe was breathless after she thanked the delivery man, and stepped back inside with the huge bouquet in a beveled vase. "Oh yeah, he's a charmer—just like I thought."

"Who?" Both Clark and Lana asked together.

"Uhh—" Chloe caught herself before speaking his name, throwing a quick glance to Lana. "James—and I forgot to tell you that we have a date tonight."

"Cool," Lana said, wondering why Chloe gave her that apprehensive look. "Do you like him?"

Chloe set the flowers on the coffee table, admiring them with wide eyes. "I'm not sure yet—but these flowers sure help the cause," she said, leaning over to take a whiff of their sweetness. "This is kind of embarrassing to say, but this is the first time a guy has ever sent me flowers."

"No it's not," Clark said defensively. "I sent you a whole dozen of roses once."

Lana looked at him in shock—she'd never even received that grand of a gesture. She turned back quickly so her curiosity wouldn't be so obvious.

"Uhh, Clark," Chloe said, patting his chest as she walked by. "It doesn't count when you send them to a hospital patient."

"Why?" Clark asked, thinking he'd scored a serious touchdown because of it. He followed her into the kitchen where she intended to start cleaning up, but couldn't pass up the opportunity.

"Because, Clark," Chloe answered, like she was teaching him some life-saving lesson. "It's kind of expected—not spontaneous, and besides I was unconscious."

Clark threw up his hands, looking over to Lana. "Help me here! That counts, doesn't it?" Lana bit her lip, tipping her head. This was obviously a bad sign, and Clark walked over to the couch and fell into it. "Who makes up these stupid rules? Seriously, how are guys supposed to know that? I thought I was being thoughtful!"

"I wasn't saying it wasn't thoughtful," Chloe said, rolling the Luv Sac closer to the coffee table so she could sit by the orchids. "All I was saying, is that it wasn't romantic, and receiving flowers in THIS manner is! It was spontaneous and without purpose . . . except to butter me up—or something, who knows? But that's what makes it romantic."

"He sounds great, Chlo," Lana said with a smile. "Tell me all about him before I have to jinx it out of you." She pretended to be warming up her magical hands, though she didn't know a single jinx—but Chloe didn't have to know that.

Chloe shook her head. "Sorry, but there's not much to say—he works at the Planet with me. He's umm, almost twenty-one I think, and well . . . " she couldn't keep it in any longer, "okay—his father owns the Daily Planet and about thirty other mega-businesses—so what?"

Clark knew about the enormous enterprise that owned the Daily Planet—they were almost as famous as the Luthors. "His dad owns the Olsen Corporation?"

Lana was about to shriek anyway, but when her mind spit out a curious name to her, she threw her hand over her mouth. "Jimmy Olsen! But he's the guy—" and then she just stopped, knowing some boundaries should never be crossed, not even if it was just Clark standing in their midst. "I mean, umm, you've known him for a few years now, right?"

Chloe nodded with a raised brow to Lana, confirming that what she'd told her earlier about Jimmy Olsen was strictly between them. "We've emailed a few times over the years, but he started calling last month when he found out I was interested in another internship this summer—crazy, huh?"

Clark was in a daze again. Lana bumped him to see what was up and he said, "Seriously? Flowers don't count when they're only 'thoughtful'? What about when they're given for an apology—like all those times I gave you a rose when I wanted to make up for something."

"Clark, we're talking about Chloe's new guy," Lana said, putting his face in her hands and turning his attention to her . . . but his lips were pouted in such a cute way, as she squished his cheeks together, that she couldn't help but give him a quick peck. "Pay attention—you might learn something."

"Yeah, I kinda suck at this stuff, I guess," Clark said, feeling rightfully reproved.

"You don't suck, Clark," Chloe said, suddenly feeling sorry for her big dumb alien friend—despite the kiss Lana just planted on him. "You could just use some tweaking—like a good news article that could be GREAT, if it was only kicked up a notch."

"A notch?" Clark asked flatly, then looked back to Lana and whispered, "Do I need to 'kick it up a notch'?"

Lana laughed, seeing that he was entirely serious. "Not as many notches as you used to," she said. "You've progressed a lot in the last couple of months."

He couldn't help but smile, giving a smug nod to Chloe. "See, I'm not THAT bad," he said. "But I guess I could use a few pointers from this new Olsen hottie—do we get to meet him?"

That put a nice round rock right in the center of Chloe's stomach—especially with the mention of the 'hottie'. "Well, he's supposed to pick me up at seven, but I'm not really sure if—"

Part 35:

"Oh, c'mon, Chlo," Clark said, mirroring Lana's expression of disappointment. "I'll behave myself—I promise. No joking, no teasing—I swear. I'll even shower and comb my hair."

"You'll COMB your hair?" Lana asked, loving the way he usually just tousled it around with his fingers. "Heaven forbid—I'd leave." Instinctively, she wrapped one of her fingers around the loose curls resting above his shirt collar—dang, she loved his dark luscious hair—how it hung just above his eyes, how it smelled, ohh . . .

Now it was Lana who was in a trance—and Clark had closed his eyes in bliss, leaning his head back against the pressure of her fingers, that were now moving through the back of his hair.

Chloe stood to get a glass of water for herself—or poison if she could find it. "No, you can't meet him," she mumbled. FREAK! She couldn't wait to leave this place tonight.

She loved these two, and was doing a better job at closing her heart to the thought of them together—but that was really the problem—it wasn't a 'thought' at all anymore. It was like watching her worst nightmare in movie form right in front of her! They were like a pair of squid, their sticky hands all over one another.

When she returned, a full minute later, Chloe stood in front of them with her glass of water. She put her hand on her hip, waiting for them to notice—but nothing! They weren't even kissing—at least that would be excusable—they were just goggling at each other.

There was only one way to rescue them from the Love Zone. SPLASH! "It's time to talk about Lex!" she said.

"What the—" Clark said, wiping the water off his face.

"You said you needed a shower," Chloe answered, then moved her eyes to Lana who was dripping as well. "Sorry, your close proximity made it impossible to miss you."

Lana looked at Clark, removing a drop from the tip of his nose. "Somehow, I think we might have deserved that," she said.

"Uhh, yeah—I thought I was gonna have to call the paramedics to separate you two with the jaws of life," Chloe said. "Now, let's get serious—we don't have a lot of time. I need to get ready for tonight."

Clark looked at the wall clock. "It's noon! I thought you said he wasn't coming until seven!"

"Exactly," Chloe said, plopping down in the Luv Sac.

"And he sent her flowers," Lana said, tipping her head as though that explained everything. "Which adds at least another hour to the prep time—she's really got to look her best."

Clark didn't pick up on Lana's sarcasm. "More girl rules? Man, do you have this stuff written down somewhere? It would be nice to have a copy," he said, looking quite defeated.

"All right. Lex, Lex, Lex," Chloe said, tapping the side of her head and trying to get on with the target subject for the umpteenth time. "What are we to do with our dear little friend who's taken a one way ride to the dark side?"

Clark knew joking was a part of Chloe that came out in almost any circumstance, but the situation was anything but funny to him. "So far, I think we've established how Lex finally found out about my abilities, as well as my weakness for Kryptonite," he said.

"But how MUCH does he know of your abilities?" Lana asked.

"On the phone he referred to me as a meteor freak, so at least he doesn't know anything about my origin," he said, placing his hand on Lana's. "But that's a good question—how many of my abilities has he seen? Let's see . . . he knows about my strength for sure—he saw it in the Luthor Corp lab after he was split in two, and also when I ripped the so called indestructible door off his vault."

"Yeah, that would do it," Chloe said.

"And he might know about my speed—but my guess is that he thinks I teleport, because . . . " Clark was suddenly gone and Chloe and Lana looked around for him . . . then they heard the toilet flush and Clark walked out of the bathroom, finishing his sentence like he hadn't even left " . . . I'm not sure how it looks to you guys, but I'd guess you can't really see me move when I go that fast, right? So doesn't it look like I just disappeared? Like I teleported?"

Both Chloe and Lana blinked at the same time, having been staring at him. "Did you just, uhh—" Chloe asked slowly.

"I'm pretty fast at EVERYTHING, Chloe. I even put the seat back down and washed my hands," he answered, not thinking they'd make such a big deal of it. "You should see how fast I can eat if I need to—which really helped when I wanted to sleep in on a school day."

Lana shook her head. Every wife's dream she thought—a guy who was so fast he didn't hog the bathroom—AND he puts the seat down. She was definitely sold. "Yeah, it does pretty much look like you disappear, except that there's this momentary blur—it's kinda hot, actually."

"You can feel it?" Clark asked, having never been told that by his parents.

"Not that kind of HOT, Clark," Chloe said, mentally agreeing with Lana because she felt the same way herself. "So what other tricks has Lex seen?"

Clark thought through the times Lex might have witnessed him—or his cameras catching stuff he'd done. "I'm sure he knows I'm pretty thick skinned—especially if he had security tapes of when his lab collapsed on me and Chloe. But I think that might be it. I doubt he made the connection between me squinting my eyes and his Kryptonite rock changing from green to black when I heated it up with my heat vision."

"What do you mean?" Lana asked. "Why did you change the color of the Kryptonite? Is black less dangerous for you?"

"No, I just react differently to it—my mom used it against me when I came back last summer as Kal-El—to drive the . . . holy—" Clark cursed, and then he cursed again, and again, which was so unusual for him that it took both Chloe and Lana a second to realize that he was actually happy. "That's it!"

"Okay, I think you just said more swear words in the last ten seconds than you've said in your entire life combined," Chloe said.

Lana was at last sure she knew what all the hopping around was about. "Do you think black Kryptonite can do the same thing to Lex?"

Clark finally stopped and faced them, trying to rethink everything. "When I heated the Kryptonite ring, it destroyed a part of Lex—but obviously the wrong part. When my mom used black-k against me, it forced the bad out and left only the real Clark Kent," he said, walking around like he was a chemistry teacher trying to explain something really complicated to a freshman college class. "SO—"

"What if you were to try to do it again with Lex?" Lana asked. "Would the real side of him at last prevail? Or is it gone forever?"

"Exactly!" Clark said, sitting beside her—strangely exhausted from his speech—and finally seeing a flaw in it. "That's the question, isn't it?"

"Because what if the Lex we know now is the REAL Lex—the man he was destined to become?" Chloe asked. "Or what if the better side of Lex DOES come back, but he still doesn't stop with his obsession for destroying you, since he'll still keep his memories of what he knows?"

Clark lowered is head. "That's a chance I'll have to take—I don't see any other way to get him off my back—or yours, or Lana's either."

Lana nodded. "I think it's worth a try," she said to Clark, as though the words were sacred. "We can't run forever, Clark—Smallville is our home."

Chloe looked between the two of them, holding hands and almost cooing to one another—like doves. She couldn't help but wonder what happened to the Lana who wanted to bust out of Smallville the first chance she got—see the world—stretch her wings and soar.

Now Lana seemed to dream of nothing but a closet full of flannel shirts, and making feed runs at the first crow of a rooster.

If this was true love, Chloe thought, spare her the details. She wouldn't sacrifice her ambitions for anyone—not even the man of steel.

"Well, whatever you say," Chloe said, surprised when they actually turned their attention to her. "And if the ring-thing backfires and Lex's brain get fried . . . then I guess I'll get my wish of erasing his memory, won't I?"

Clark swallowed, again feeling sick over her flippancy. But there was no changing Chloe, so it was just best to love her the way she was. "I think you may be right about the memory thing, Chloe, but I hope we don't have to do it in the way you think. But we'll definitely have to do some memory-MODIFYING, if we can."

"How?" Lana and Chloe asked.

"By tweaking—as you earlier enlightened me to—his proof of my abilities," Clark said. "Then, if the black-k turns him back into who he was, he may still have his memory of what he saw, but might second guess himself if his security tapes show something entirely different from what he remembers."

"But how can we pull that off?" Chloe asked with a skeptical smirk.

"With a little magic," Lana said, riding the surf of Clark's brainwaves like she was the Big Kahuna.

Part 36:

"Magic?" Chloe asked, knowing Lana had definitely let her new abilities go to her head. "Lana, I'm sure you're capable of a lot of amazing things, but—"

"I'm not talking about MY magic," Lana answered her with a smile. "I'm talking about YOURS."

Clark was smiling too, waiting for Chloe to catch on—which she didn't. Not even close. "Chloe, you've given me a lot of credit over the years for helping people out," he said, "but I wouldn't have been able to do even half of it without your help. You have more super-powered brain cells than I could ever hope to have."

"And you're a technical mastermind, Chlo," Lana said. "I know you can figure out a way to hack into Lex's security and manipulate the data."

Chloe rolled her eyes, trying to ignore their flattery. "But it's not just a matter of hacking into it—we can't just erase what he saw and think he won't suspect us. We'd have to . . . " she stopped, staring right through the two of them as the wheels started turning, ". . . Wow . . . that might just work. Would it? Let's see, if we . . . yeah . . . oh, but we might need more people to pull it off . . . "

Clark and Lana looked to one another with hopeful grins as Chloe continued to sort through scattered thoughts. After a few minutes of self-brainstorming, completely ignoring Clark and Lana, Chloe enlightened them—to which they both nodded their heads enthusiastically, then shook them in awe.

"Wow. I knew you'd think of something, but that's brilliant," Lana said, thinking she'd give up her powers any day to match Chloe's intellect. She wasn't sure if she'd ever get over her questions of why Clark wanted her over Chloe. All she knew was that she felt pretty darn lucky to be sitting next to him. She scooted closer to Clark, feeling strangely protective for a moment.

By the time they were finished planning, it was after four, and Chloe shrieked when she saw the clock. "I've barely got enough time!" she said, standing from the Luv Sac and feeling her legs almost give out beneath her. "Nice, my first date with Jimmy in three years and my butt is numb—that ought to give me a nice strut."

"What are you going to wear?" Lana asked, thinking of a shirt she had that would look great on Chloe.

Chloe looked at Lana in horror—as though her skin was peeling off. She cursed. "I don't know! Help me! Should I go casual, or elegant, or . . . " She rattled off more styles than Clark knew existed.

"How about 'farm boy sleek'," he said. "It works for me."

Lana and Chloe stopped twittering just long enough to give him looks that said, 'Clark, this is serious stuff, so run along and play with a chunk of Kryptonite.'

Then Lana grabbed her duffle bag out of the bathroom and they headed to Chloe's closet—acting as though they were going to a meeting on how to stop world hunger.

"All riiiiiighty then," Clark mumbled to himself, grabbing the remote and stretching out on the couch—which was just right for his height, for a little TV—something he hadn't done for over a week. He could hardly recall the last time he'd done anything normal. There was no harm in relaxing while he had the chance—the girls looked like they'd be ignoring him for a while anyway . . . or maybe a decade.

Clark flipped through channels for the next ten minutes, until he saw an all too familiar face flash behind a newscaster. "Lex Luthor's attorneys claim the Chinese artifacts were purchased legally though an antiques dealer in London this past January," the news lady said, "but already, there are sources who say Luthor visited China the very week that the artifacts were reported as missing from the Chinese temple—which he adamantly denies. Meanwhile, the artifacts have been returned to the foreign diplomats, and a criminal investigation is underway."

Lana heard Lex's name from the other room, and walked to the couch. And Chloe went to shower. "What did they say?" Lana asked.

Clark told her, feeling like the nightmare was never going to end. "I hope we didn't make things worse. He's obviously going to know who tipped off Sheriff Adams."

She looked down at Clark lying there with his expression of worry she was so familiar with. She wished with all her heart that her magic had the ability to make every one of his problems disappear. She sighed. "I love you, Clark Kent."

The corners of Clark's lips raised. "Where'd that come from?"

"I don't know," Lana said, kneeling beside the couch and touching the smooth skin of his full lips. "It came into my mind, and it's such a relief to finally say anything I want to you—that I just said it."

Clark opened up his arms, hinting that he wanted her to lay beside him. She was happy to oblige as she spooned in next to him and he turned off the TV. "Anything else you want to say?" Clark asked, moving the silky long hair off her neck and replacing it with his parted mouth.

"Actually, my mind just went mysteriously blank," she said, feeling like she'd just slipped into a warm hot tub of bliss. And until they heard Chloe turn off the water—thirty minutes later—they didn't speak another word. Their lips were otherwise engaged.

Lana made a motion to sit up, but Clark pulled her back against him. "Chloe's okay," he said. "She might even be relieved that we're up to something borderline scandalous."

She couldn't help but relax in his arms again, but still worried what Chloe's expression would be when she opened the door to see them spooning on the couch. "Yeah, I guess this IS pretty scandalous for us, isn't it?"

Chloe left the bathroom without even noticing the two of them as she made a beeline to the bedroom to finish getting ready.

Lana smiled, then placed another soft kiss on Clark's wet lips. She was sure she'd never get over the newness of being with him like this—and she wanted so much more. All she could have. She wanted to be his wife.

"I love you, Lana Lang," Clark whispered, sending static through her entire body. "And I'm also very happy that I can tell you whatever comes to my mind—well, maybe not EVERYTHING."

Lana wove her fingers through Clark's, closing her eyes and pleading to whatever power that would listen, that she would never have to leave this man's arms again. And then she drifted off to a nice, afternoon nap. A very nice one.

Part 37:

With Clark beside her, fading out of consciousness just as quickly, Lana was back in France, entering Isobel's kitchen and coming face to face with Kal-El—now dressed and looking almost as good in a white button-down shirt and black trousers. Isobel wanted to undo just one more button to see a bit more of that awesome chest again. She wondered what ever possessed her to offer him clothing, then shook off the thought. _Perhaps I could accidentally spill something on the shirt._

"I'm sorry I don't have any sort of a feast to offer, but if you'd like to sit, I'll find what I can," she said, motioning to a chair at the table. "My cooks are away, along with the rest of my staff. So, I'm afraid you're stuck with my feeble attempts at cooking." Her manor was large for the countryside, but only a third the size of what she'd had in Paris.

She needed the staff to help her care for the place, but they were much more like family than hired help. It was so strange when they went away like this, but Isobel always felt it important that they take holidays when she could manage without them. She was always lonely though. Her staff members were all much older than she, and quite parental at times—leaving her with no one of her own age or circumstances to consider a friend. But it was far better than her life in Paris, where her neighbors talked of her far too often.

"Anything at all would be great," Kal-El said, sitting and noticing that Marguerite was looking up at him with wide, frightened eyes. He offered a gentle smile. "Hello."

Marguerite shrieked and ran around the length of the table as fast as her little legs could carry her—and clutched onto her mother's skirts. "Mama! Big man, Mama!"

_Yes, big gorgeous man—sitting in my kitchen!_

Isobel laughed, scooping Marguerite into her arms and placing her on a hip. "It's all right," she said. "The big man is nice." She glanced over her shoulder to see Kal-El with an apologetic grin.

"I didn't mean to frighten her," he said. "Perhaps I should go outside—or back to the barn."

"Heavens, no," Isobel said, lightheartedly. "And how long, may I ask, have you been staying in my barn?"

"Since last night. I've been traveling through the country, and it looked like a nice place to rest," he said. This time, his honest answer was a little more shrewd—leaving out the small detail that he'd been led to her by a penetrating ringing in his head that wouldn't go away—not until he found the black stone that was hidden in the dense forest bordering her property. "I'd planned to be gone by early morning, but I suppose I missed the crowing of your rooster—then when I finally woke, I saw you in the flowers . . . and the fire started . . . somehow." He looked to the table, unable to face her as he hid so much.

He was beginning to understand why his eyes were burning—why he'd started the fire, but that wasn't something you just told a woman—not on Krypton, and not on Earth. That much he was certain of. _And, oh, the way she looks right now, it might happen all over again_.

Isobel was slicing some bread and cheese, hoping it would be enough for him. "Our rooster is buried next to the lake—so it's doubtful you'd have heard him crowing," she said, giving a sideways glance over to Kal-El that made him uncomfortably hot again.

"Feathers," Marguerite said sadly, her bottom lip protruding so far that it made Kal-El smile at her sweetness. "Feathers," she repeated again. Then she toddled around the room, flapping her arms like wings.

"Feathers was our rooster," Isobel whispered, trying not to upset her daughter any further. "He was the only little friend that she's ever had, and well, he was old and you know . . . he and Marguerite were quite close."

"I can see that," Kal-El answered, suddenly wishing he had something to offer Marguerite to distract her. He felt bad for even bringing up the rooster, but he'd been sure that they had one of those strange Earth animals—as most people with barns did. He'd grown to dislike them quite a bit over the past few weeks.

On Krypton, when he wanted to wake, he did it. He did not have to rely on a feathered beast to alert him to the dawn of day. And Earth had only ONE moon—he still couldn't get used to how peculiar that was. So much was different on this planet. Though his father had told him he would have powers much greater than he could imagine, he was still trying to get used to how to use them, and new abilities seemed to be coming each day.

As much as he was enjoying such things, he'd wanted to return home since the day he arrived—until now, that was. Now, he hoped his father's ridiculous lesson in obedience would last quite a while longer. But there was no way of knowing—his father was not one to divulge details—though he was an expert at giving strict orders. Too many for Kal-El to keep up with at times.

Isobel placed a generous plate of bread and cheese, along with a mug of something Kal-El didn't recognize in front of him on the table. At least their food was strangely similar to that of Krypton's. He thanked her and she went back to the cutting board, slicing an apple for him, and one for Marguerite as well.

In their silence, Kal-El could not stop himself from glancing at her slim figure. What was it about this woman that made her look so differently from any other? He'd been around enough Earth women since he'd been there to not feel much attraction to them—though they were abnormally drawn to him—for some unexplainable reason, he thought. But Isobel was different. She seemed to have a grasp on his soul that he couldn't shake—nor did he want to.

Isobel turned to see Kal-El staring at her and was ashamed of herself for enjoying his attention. One did not flirt with stragglers—it was dangerous to say the least. "I hope you like apples," she said, adding the wedges to his plate.

Kal-El just nodded, unable to think of any sort of response—not even in Kryptonian.

Thinking it would be wise to break the manner in which their eyes were locked again, Isobel turned to give some apple wedges to Marguerite. "Sweetheart," she said, glancing around the kitchen, then looking under the table where she often played. "Marguerite," she called again, moving through the surrounding rooms.

After a panicked search, she ran out the door and screamed—seeing Marguerite teetering toward the lake—already much too close for Isobel to reach her in time.

She began to run—shouting for Marguerite to stop, her heart racing as fast as it could without bursting. In her pursuit, she saw a blur of white to the side of her—then stopped dead in her tracks—falling to her knees in shock as she witnessed Kal-El scoop Marguerite into his arms, just as she reached the water. Kal-El had appeared out of thin air. How was that possible?

"Lana, Clark," Chloe said, shaking them—as one conglomerate heap—out of their slumber. "Seriously, you guys. He's going to be here any minute. Get off the freakin' couch."

Lana laid there, her heart pounding with the rate that Isobel's had. She swallowed down a lump of emotion, looking to Clark who seemed to be ignoring Chloe entirely until he forced his heavy lids open and he remembered where he was.

They sat up, still tangled together. "Sorry, Chloe," Lana said. "We must have drifted off."

Chloe took hold of both of them, attempting to hoist them from the couch. "Drifting off is napping for thirty minutes, you two have been sawing logs for hours," she said. "Now, get in the bedroom and don't make a noise—and don't wait up for me either."

"Well, check in when you get back, will you?" Clark said, having his first intelligible thought.

Chloe kept pushing them toward the bedroom. "Clark, I haven't had a parental figure in my life for almost a year now, I think I can handle myself."

"I know you can, but I'm kinda paranoid right now," Clark said, still allowing her to push him, but wanting to put his steel foot down, like his own father would. "I'm serious, just let us know when you get home—or call if you need someone to come get you—"

Chloe had shoved the two of them behind the door and pulled it shut. "Stay out of sight!" she said, trying to sound facetious about it, but meaning it just the same. Jimmy wasn't exactly the type of guy you impressed your friends with. At least he wasn't the last time they were together—his puffy strawberry blonde hair, braces. Umm . . . yeah, she better wait and see first. She'd never live it down—especially after what Lana knew of the two of them.

Inside the bedroom, Lana explained her latest dream to Clark—as Chloe paced in front of the door, waiting for Jimmy's knock.

"Isobel saw him super-speed?" Clark asked. "The first day they met?"

"More like the first hour, I think," Lana said. "Funny huh? It took me over a decade to discover your secret."

Clark couldn't argue with that. "Well, even if she saw him do that, it doesn't mean he'll stick around to explain," he said, still uncertain of what to think of Lana's visions. "And even if he does, then Isobel discovered his abilities on accident—right? I told you because I love you—there's a difference."

Lana tipped her head, wondering where Clark's sudden defensiveness was coming from. "Clark, the man who stayed with Isobel wasn't you."

Clark released his breath, finally relieved that he no longer felt the need to explain his actions with another woman—of which he had no recollection. "How do you know?"

"Because I paid closer attention to his face this time—well, he finally got dressed, so it was a bit easier," she said, smiling. "Anyway, I noticed that he didn't have the same mole you do under your eye, right here." She touched the faint marking she'd always adored, high on his right cheekbone.

Clark nodded, sure of that all along—but who was this guy?

"But what's really strange, is that I'm starting to discern his feelings as well—like I can read his mind," she said. "It's not really words I'm hearing, just emotions. I don't know how to explain it."

"I don't know how to explain ANYTHING that's happening to us lately," Clark said, embracing her.

Part 38:

A cheery knock on the front door made them part, and smile with curiosity. "Should we peek?" Clark whispered.

"No!" Lana said, really wanting to—badly. "She'd kill us."

"Well, I'm pretty tough to kill, and you know Lana-fu," Clark said. "So—"

"Lana-fu! Whatever!" she said, smacking him on the head.

"Owww," Clark said, putting a hand to his head and pouting.

"Don't even try it," she said.

Chloe had been patiently waiting in front of the door, trying not to appear overanxious. "Oh, hi . . . " she said when she opened it at last, then had to inhale another breath of air before she continued. "Wow. You, uhh, you've changed since I last saw you."

Jimmy smiled, and Chloe noticed that his teeth were now perfectly straight—no braces. His hair wasn't poofy anymore, in fact, it was very sexy—all of him was. "And so have you—I mean, you've always been beautiful, but man," he said, shaking his head and trying really hard to keep his eyes up.

"Thanks!" Chloe said, feeling like a puddle of melted butter. Someone could've scooped her up and lathered her on a slice of toast. "Well, let's go."

She made a motion to step through the door, but Jimmy walked into the apartment at the same time. "This is a great place!" he said, looking around. "Did you say you were thinking of moving in permanently?"

"Maybe," Chloe said, trying to back him out again, but catching a whiff of his cologne—the brand that always made her toes curl. But what was she afraid of? Jimmy looked nothing like a guy you tried to shield from society—man, he was hot now! Still, she didn't want to deal with Clark and Lana's curious smirks—so she had to get him out of there.

But it was too late. Just as Clark opened the door just enough to peek out, Jimmy saw him, and turned to Chloe with a look of startle. "Uhh—"

Clark could've used his x-ray vision, but he knew Lana was just as anxious to look.

"Oh, you probably want to know why there's a guy in my bedroom, don't you?" Chloe asked with an innocent shrug. "Come on out, guys. I know you're listening."

Clark came out with a huge grin, tugging Lana by the hand.

"Sorry," Lana said, her tone pleading for forgiveness.

Jimmy was thrilled to meet them, and after introductions were made, he couldn't wait to get more friendly. "Hey, why don't you two come along? I have such a great night planned, and it would be twice as nice with friends."

"Nah, you don't want these guys tagging along—they'd hardly be conversationalists, if you know what I mean," Chloe said, winking at Jimmy. "They rarely come up for air."

Both Clark and Lana gave looks that said, 'Oh, come on!' but it was due to her comment, not because they were begging to go.

"They can't be THAT bad," Jimmy said, putting his arm around Chloe and giving her a squeeze. "What do ya say, guys? I'll be terribly offended if you don't join us."

"Yes, please come," Chloe said, hoping that Clark and Lana would recognize that she was giving her fake expression of hopeful expectation.

Clark smiled, putting his arm around Lana in the same playful manner that Jimmy had done to Chloe—he was already taking notes from this guy. "We'd love to . . . but I have to shower first, can we hook up with you somewhere?"

They agreed to meet in an hour at Fathoms, and after Chloe and Jimmy left, Clark looked down at Lana with somewhat of a concerned expression. "Well, with the prices of the restaurant we're going to—we may be sharing an appetizer. Hope you're not too hungry."

"Like you've always said—I eat like a bird, so I'm fine," Lana answered. "But how do you know how expensive Fathoms is—have you been there?" Just as she said it, she had a sinking feeling.

"Just once," he said. "A very long time ago, in another life I try every day to forget."

"Then why go?" she asked. "It's obvious that Chloe would prefer we stay here."

Clark thought for a moment, trying to determine the best way to say this. "Lana, when Jimmy sent those flowers today, it made me realize the many different levels in which I've failed you." Lana started to protest, but Clark went on. "I mean, we've hardly even 'dated' at all. We've had enough serious talks to last a lifetime, and we've made it through countless life-threatening situations—but we could probably count the number of official dates we've had on one hand."

Lana tipped her head and held up four fingers.

"Exactly! And that's worse than pathetic, so I want to change all that," Clark said, putting his hands on her tiny waist and stepping closer. "You mean everything to me, Lana, and I want to do all I can to prove that to you—the way a normal boyfriend would—not a guy who has to worry about spaceships and crazy-billionaires chasing after him. I want us to have fun together and do the things normal couples do."

"Clark, you have the weight of the world on your shoulders—literally," she said, wrapping her arms around his waist as well. "You already give me more than I could ever hope for in a relationship."

"Well, Chloe inspired me today—so I'm going to 'kick it up a notch,'" he said, leaning in to kiss her tenderly. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I don't want the stress of all this destiny garbage interfering with us living a normal life together."

"And that means going out with friends?" she asked, her insides toasty enough to roast marshmallows.

"And going to movies, and baseball games . . . and suburban block parties," Clark said. "No matter what crazy situations we find ourselves in, we're going to live as casually as we can."

"Suburban block parties?" Lana asked. The single phrase was stuck in her head, playing over and over again. "You're thinking a bit far into the future, aren't you?"

Clark could tell she was happy about that, so he said what he really wanted to. "Far, far into the future, as far as you can go—that's how long I want you by my side," he said. "Who knows where we'll end up? Knowing Jor-El, it could be on another planet."

"Anything's possible," Lana said with a laugh, but she knew the idea wasn't as far-fetched as Clark made it sound. "As long as it has a decent shopping mall, I'll be just fine."

Things were getting very serious, and they both knew it. The proof was in the honest way in which they talked, the way they kissed—with passion, but bridled when it needed to be, and especially the way they felt about one another. The ever increasing moments they spent together etched their determination and love deeper into their hearts. Clana was there to stay—and it felt good . . . so good.

"Okay, give me thirty seconds, and I'll be ready," Clark said.

Before Lana could tell him she needed longer than that herself, he blurred past her—the only proof of his presence being the banging of the bathroom door and the sound of water turning on. Lana rubbed her arms, smoothing down the hair that was sticking straight up from chills. Wow—what that boy did to her!

The thought of him 'kicking it up a notch' made her shudder with excitement as she walked into the bedroom, closing the door and changing into snug black slacks and a short-sleeved brown top that rested on the edge of her shoulders. She didn't want to just look great tonight—she wanted to look like an irresistible chocolate lava cake.

Clark would've been out sooner, but he had a bit of an issue. "Uhh, Lana," he said, peeking only his head out of the bathroom door. "Can you bring me my backpack?"

She knew what the problem was the moment he called out to her. She debated, as Isobel did, whether she really wanted to help him out—by giving him clothes—or not. She slung the pack over her shoulder and headed for the fun.

Before she could start her banter however, Clark spoke first—opening the door more than he intended when he saw her. "Why do you feel the need to torture me like this?" he asked, looking her over.

Lana could've said the same line herself. "You're the one standing there in a towel," she said, scoping him out with just as little shame as he was showing. Yep, he and the Kal-El in Isobel's memory were definitely not the same person—Clark's chest and abs out-buffed Kal-El by a landslide. "You've been working out since I last saw you half-naked—and wet."

Clark's face split with a huge smile—glad that she'd noticed. "Benching tractors tends to have that effect on a body," he said.

Lana reluctantly handed over the backpack. "That's not the effect it's having on MY body," she said, fanning herself as she stepped away from the door.

He swallowed, almost losing the grip on his towel. "You know when I said I can't tell you EVERYTHING that's on my mind—well, this is one of those times."

"My mind's definitely in the gutter right now as well," she said. "So you'd better shut that door or we'll never make it to dinner—or for that matter, out of this apartment—ever again."

Clark did as she said, his heart pounding so fast he didn't have the energy to use his super speed to get dressed. Timing was a delicate thing he had to remind himself. He put on his clothes in what seemed to be very slow motion—taking just as slow of breaths to calm down.

All the clothes Clark packed were dark—just in case he had to do some night flying. When they'd finally made it outside, Clark looked up to see only a sliver of a moon and knew the conditions were perfect for a little fun—for Lana, at least.

"So much for normal," Lana said with a thrilling shriek, as they blasted into the wild blue yonder.

Part 39:

They reached Fathoms in only a few minutes, touching down in a dimmed parking lot a couple of buildings away. They strolled along the sidewalks—holding hands like a scene from the ending of a Meg Ryan movie.

When they approached the hostess desk, a young blonde—who obviously had a little artificial help with her bust line—was finishing up with a phone reservation, then hung up, still writing the name of the customer in her book. Without glancing up she said, "Name, please."

"Shawn," Clark answered, winking at Lana. Metropolis was a place well familiar to Lex and his friends, so Lana had suggested they stay under the radar as much as they could. It was one thing to try to be normal—it was another to be plain stupid. "But our friends should already—" Clark started to say.

The hostess raised her glittering eyes. "That's funny—the last time we met, your name was Kal."

Lana shifted her weight, trying not to react to the girl recognizing Clark.

Clark gave her hand a squeeze. "Uhh, Kal was my twin brother—and he's been away for years now. He's gone a bit . . . " Clark gave a look that expressed regret, then made the sign for going 'crazy'.

"Really?" the girl asked with a gasp. "But he seemed so—"

"Young?" Lana was compelled to say.

The hostess gave a devilish smile. "Among other things."

"Yeah," Clark said sadly. "I just hope the cross-dressing he's now so fond of doesn't run in the genes, you know?"

"Right, well, if you see him, umm . . . " she started to write her phone number down on a scrap of paper.

Lana put her hand on the hostess' arm, patting it like a child's. "Yeah, I'm sure you'd love to hook up with Kal now that he's 'legal' and all—but like Shawn said—he's changed a bit since he was living in Metropolis at sixteen."

"Shut up!" shrieked Goldilocks, her face in a fit of terror. "Oh my . . . well, it's a good thing he—"

"Never called you?" Clark asked, raising his brows.

The girl tossed her woven tresses of fake hair—refusing to admit she'd been dissed by Kal, then asked the name of their party and rushed them to their table.

Jimmy immediately stood and greeted the two of them—grabbing Lana's chair before Clark even had a chance to think about it. Clark sat and Chloe leaned across the table to him, whispering in a hurry, "You could've checked him out without opening the door—you idiot!"

Clark couldn't believe she was still upset about it—it happened over an hour ago. Sheesh, girls held such grudges. "But Lana wanted to see too—even though she wouldn't admit it."

When Jimmy returned to his seat, they both sat straight again—pretending like they'd only issued a pleasant greeting. Lana was certain she knew what they said, however, and gave Chloe another one of her very apologetic smiles.

"Glad to see you two made it!" Jimmy said with enthusiasm. "Chloe here had her doubts—thought you'd get a little distracted along the way." He laughed, bumping Chloe, which she didn't seem to mind.

"Thanks for inviting us," Lana said graciously. "This place is amazing." She was in awe by her surroundings—the word hip couldn't begin to describe it. The tones of copper, saddle-colored leather and black granite, were just part of the modern flair. And the room they were in—which fit only five private tables, was surrounded by an aquarium of remarkable sea life. "I'm guessing they didn't find these barracuda in Metropolis Lake."

"I surely hope not," Jimmy said with a fake shiver. "And I don't think we have black-tipped reef sharks either—but who knows? They've pulled plenty of interesting things out of that murky lake water."

They all laughed, musing over the different news stories they'd heard over the years involving the lake that sat in the middle of Metropolis Central Park. The waiter came, speaking with a French accent to boot (Lana thought it was at least exaggerated—if not altogether false) and offered them drinks and menus. The hostess continued to make 'casual' appearances to check-out Clark, pretending to be looking for extra silverware—she said, but Lana knew better, and it was starting to really bug her.

Jimmy ordered himself a sparkling water, and the others followed suit—only they went with the tap water variety. Jimmy noticed, and feeling uncomfortable about it said, "Hey, you guys should know that this outing is my treat, okay? Order whatever you want."

"Nah, you don't have to do that," Clark said, feeling like a major cheapskate.

"I insist," he said. "I'm the one who talked you into coming—I just wanted to get to know the two people Chloe talks about most." A short time later, they'd all ordered—starting out with simple requests that were added upon by Jimmy.

The hostess made her way back over, having the nerve to interrupt this time. "So, I'm not sure if I told you . . . " she said, panting like a dog in heat, " . . . my name is Tara, Tara Bradley—I'm in the book, so be sure to let Kal know, okay?"

It was obvious that Tara was no longer interested in Kal at all—but his 'sane' twin brother, Shawn.

Clark nodded, "Actually, they don't allow him to communicate with the outside world—they uhh, tend to shelter cases like him," he said, again putting on his act of pity and getting very curious looks from across the table. "After his episode at Victoria's Secret with the thongs and push-up bras . . . well, that's when we knew society just wasn't his thing."

"Oh," Tara said, noticeably flustered that Clark hadn't taken her hint. She backed away, then whirled around, swinging her booty like she thought she was Jennifer Lopez.

That was a serious mistake. Lana slipped her hand under the table so no one could see what she was doing, then gave one directed swipe. One of Tara's three inch spiked heels mysteriously snapped off—sending her to the floor on her perfectly rounded butt she seemed to be so very proud of.

Tara pouted, then waved over a waiter to help her up. She took off her shoes, then left the room in an embarrassed huff.

Everyone in the room had turned when she fell, trying not to laugh, because that would be rude, of course. But there were certainly a few snickers at Lana's table—mostly from Clark, who was quick to explain to Jimmy that the hostess thought he was someone else, but he'd decided to have a bit of fun with it.

Lana tipped her head to Chloe, with a small frown as she shook her head. "Don't you just hate it when that happens, Chlo?" she asked. "Those great shoes of hers looked like they might've been Prada."

"Oh yeah, definitely," Chloe said, giving a sarcastic smirk. "I'd die if that happened to a pair of MY Prada heels."

Jimmy did nothing to hide his adoring smile as he looked at Chloe—she'd infected him like a virus the day they met. "Man, I'm so glad you're finally . . . well—graduated," he said, looking a pale shade of pink for the first time.

Clark knew what Jimmy was thinking, and like any big brother would—stuck his nose where it didn't belong. "Yeah, so Chloe's finally eighteen—and you're—"

"I'll be twenty-one in September," Jimmy said, clearing his throat. "So, it was sort of bad timing when Chloe and I met a few summers ago."

Chloe acted as though she'd just been handed a bouquet of circus balloons—her face lit up, and for the first time, she clued into why Jimmy had done nothing more than email her since their summer fling—when they were BOTH underage—which changed at the end of that summer for him.

Duh! Now she didn't have any reason at all to doubt how he felt about her. Maybe this would be an icebreaker to tell him what she wanted to.

After Chloe's euphoria faded a bit, she kicked Clark's shin under the table and pointed casually to her ear. Clark took that as a strong hint that he should turn on his super-hearing. He made eye contact to give her the go ahead.

"Back off," she whispered under her breath.

Clark gave her an almost invisible nod, feeling stupid for being so over-protective. But he couldn't help it—he'd been the neighborhood watchdog since the day they became friends.

The four of them chatted up a storm as they ate, getting along like Jimmy had always been a part of their circle. The hostess, Tara, came in a couple more times—having tugged her already low neckline down an inch or two. Everyone immediately glanced to her feet, discovering that she'd knocked the other heel off as well.

"Did your waiter tell you about our desserts?" she asked, not waiting for an answer as her eyes slowly floated over to Clark. "May I recommend our Napoleon—it's stacked with irresistible layers of chocolate and strawberries, then lathered in whipped cream." She placed a napkin casually to the side of Clark's plate, which did little to hide the scrap of paper with her information on it—name, home phone, cell phone, and email 

Clark didn't hesitate. "It sounds like someone's trying too hard—the chef, I mean."

Then right on cue, the waiter brought out the dessert tray to offer them a variety of temptations. This was quite unfortunate for the dear little hostess, because Lana was a little ticked off.

As Tara turned, she kept her attention on Clark—glancing over her shoulder and winking.

At just the right moment, Lana gave a simple spin of her finger and the dessert tray tipped out of the waiter's hands—landing precisely on target.

Tara screamed, scooping gobs of whipped cream topped Napoleon, chocolate mousse, crème brulee, and bananas foster off her face and chest. She then slapped the waiter silly for his clumsiness, dragging him off like a naughty child.

"Lana Lang!" Both Clark and Chloe said, at last putting the two incidents together.

Jimmy was completely oblivious, darting his eyes between the three of them for answers.

Lana feigned shock at their accusations, then finally conceded. "At least she got a little action tonight."

Part 40:

Clark and Chloe could not stop laughing, and Lana just went right ahead and finished off her dinner she'd had a hard time eating before. "Oh, I feel much better now," she said with a satisfied smile. "Anyone care to split a Napoleon with me? It looked delicious!"

The couples each shared a Napoleon, in honor of Tara. They then rested back in their chairs, and did their best to answer Jimmy's questions without giving anything away. He completely bought the excuse that Clark and Chloe scolded Lana only because she seemed all too happy with Tara's unfortunate accident.

By the end, Jimmy simply said, "No wonder you've always found these two so entertaining, Chloe."

Lana's reaction to Tara was one of the best moments of Clark's life. If Lana had ever been jealous before, he'd never noticed it. And it wasn't as if he thought jealousy was a step in the right direction for them—not at all. It was just that it felt ridiculously good to see her claws come out to defend her property from predators.

He slid his hand along her leg and rested it on her knee, leaning over to whisper, "I'm going to take you somewhere really cool tonight."

She whispered back, her hand going down to meet his and interlocking their fingers. "I'll go anywhere with you—as long as it's hostess-free."

They were both quite antsy to leave that very instant, but it would've been rude since Jimmy started asking them every question he could about Chloe—and neither one of them wanted to pass up the opportunity to put Chloe in the spotlight.

"Chloe is seriously the most intelligent person I've ever met," Clark said. "And those big blue eyes don't hurt her any."

"That's for sure—and I'd die to have her personality," Lana said with sincere envy. "It's like she always has the perfect words for any moment—her wit is incomparable. I've never met anyone who can fire a comeback like she can."

"Except for right now," Chloe said, warmed by their compliments. "I'm completely tongue-tied."

Jimmy's impression of Chloe had been right on target, and his beaming smile revealed his growing feelings for her. "That's because you're far too humble," he said to Chloe. "You should hear the way people talk about you at work—the chatter hasn't stopped in the three years you've been gone."

Chloe was truly taken aback by that. "What do you mean?"

"Well, everyone knows that you're their up and coming competition. And you see . . . " Jimmy leaned into the table and lowered his voice, making sure everyone was paying attention. "The Daily Planet reporters aren't exactly the close-knit family they pretend to be—there's cat fights like you wouldn't believe—especially among the women. And Chloe has been talked about since the first hour she got there as an intern, but when everyone found out she was still in high school, they tried to blow her off. BUT, they couldn't because she continued to get the big scoops—which she unfortunately had to hand over to the 'real' reporters at the time . . . but it's different now, and she's got a huge target on her."

Jimmy sat back in his chair like he was done, and everyone just stared at him. Chloe closed one eye and tipped her head in confusion. "And HOW is that a good thing?" she asked.

Jimmy gave a small jolt, unsure of why they didn't get it. "Because 'targets' get some serious attention from the powers that be—trust me on that," he said. "The reporters haven't really clued into that yet, but the 'biggies' know when someone has some major potential because the other reporters get real nervous about them. And everyone who counts knows that you've been submitting stories under pseudonyms for quite a while now—my Dad's especially a big fan of yours."

"NO WAY!" Chloe shouted, not caring a whit that everyone in the room whipped their heads to her. "YOUR DAD! He's my . . . whoa! I have a FAN! And he's the president of the whole freakin' company!"

"Well, he's your SECOND biggest fan, so don't get too carried away, all right. I'll get jealous," Jimmy said with a smile that even Lana thought was charming—and Clark felt a need to take notes from his clever honesty. "That's why my dad let me take his car tonight."

"What is it?" Clark had to ask.

"A Mercedes McLaren," Jimmy answered. "Man, it's a sweet ride!"

"Yeah, I bet it is!" Clark said, sitting up straight. "Our friend Pete would do anything to take that thing for a spin."

"Well then, we'll definitely have to arrange that," Jimmy said. "But back to my Dad's other favorite investment—Chloe really caught his attention when she wrote an article under the false name of . . . let's see, what was it that time . . . oh, yeah—Emily Greer, about Lex Luthor."

"Emily Greer?" Clark asked under his breath, trying not to laugh—then speaking up. "What was the article about?"

"It was pretty much a good old-fashioned roast—and my dad LOVED it!" Jimmy said, turning red with excitement. "Said he'd never seen a reporter with such guts!"

"How did he know it was really me who wrote it?" Chloe asked, trying to avoid Lana's smirk as she whispered, 'Emily Greer?' just as Clark did.

"He searched every Associated Press database he could trying to track down this Greer chick and offer her a job," Jimmy said. "And since you never asked for payment, he didn't have any contact information—but he had his talent-alarm on a constant look out for new articles from you. Anyway—I caved in one night and told him the truth—which made you all the more interesting to him, so he thought he'd bide his time and try not to draw too much attention to you, so when you graduated, he could snatch you up before anyone else knew who the real 'Emily Greer' was."

Chloe was basking in the overhead light of the room like it was a long awaited sunrise. "Still, you didn't say how YOU knew it was my article—I've been writing under that name for over a year now."

This was when Jimmy did a nervous little dance, acting like it might not have been a good idea to invite along friends for such an intimate revelation. "Chloe, you have a really unique way of looking at the world—like it doesn't matter how steep a cliff is, you'll find a way to climb it," he said, looking at her as though he was about to propose. "I can see that in your writing—you have an unprecedented passion for exposing the truth, no matter how difficult it is to find. So, it was easy to spot you behind the mask of Emily Greer. It couldn't have been anyone else."

"Wow," Chloe said, breathlessly. "But I was always under the impression that your Dad was friends with the Luthors."

Jimmy's face went to a scowl, which seemed very out of place on him. "Not anymore. Lex has been trying to buy out my Dad's companies for the past year, and it's turned really nasty," he said. "Even Lionel Luthor has warned Lex to back off, but he's obsessed about it."

"Yeah, Lex does have a problem with obsessing over lost causes," Clark said, ice cold.

Jimmy caught his tone—suddenly thinking it was directed to him. He looked to Chloe in a sheer panic. "I just realized that Clark might be your friend who hangs out with Lex. I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."

"I don't hang out with him anymore," Clark said without hesitation, and with an obvious chip on his shoulder.

Jimmy breathed a sigh of relief. "About had a heart attack there—I don't know why I didn't think of it earlier," he said. "But truth be known . . . my dad would do just about anything to take that guy down right now. It's been a battle the whole time, but Lex has been particularly ruthless these past two months. It's to the point that my Dad's afraid for his life."

"Tell me about it," Clark said. Neither Chloe nor Lana knew why Clark was being so honest with Jimmy, but Clark knew exactly what he was doing. They'd earlier talked about how Jimmy was a technical mastermind—even Chloe admitted that his skills put her own to shame—which was really saying something. "What if I told you there might be a way to get Lex to back off your Dad—would you be interested?"

"Hell yeah!" Jimmy said, more than intrigued. "I'd do anything!"

"Good," Clark said with confidence. "Because we're going to need you."

Part 41:

The two couples agreed to go their separate ways for tonight, but meet up again with Jimmy at Chloe's the next evening, where the girls offered to cook. "It won't be banana pancakes," Chloe said, to which both Lana and Clark gave looks of disappointment.

The last thing Clark wanted to do was ruin Chloe's date with talks of how to outsmart Lex Luthor—that could wait until tomorrow. He needed some time to think over Jimmy's role before then anyway. How could they involve him without compromising Clark's secret?

And in addition, Clark didn't want to think of anything else but Lana for the rest of the night. It had been a near-perfect day so far and he had plans to make it even better. "We've got to go by the apartment before we head to where I want to take you," he said as they walked out the front door of Fathoms—the hostess being no where in sight. "Should we run or fly?"

Clark asked the question in a casual manner, as though he'd asked if she wanted to take the taxi or subway—which gave Lana a short burst of laughter. "Do you even have to ask?"

He decided he'd do both. Looking around to see that no one was watching, he swept Lana off her feet without warning, super-speeding to the dimmed parking lot they'd landed in earlier, then bolting straight into the sky like a rocket. When they reached the apartment, he left Lana on the landing for only a split second while he grabbed his backpack. "Hang on," he said, taking her before she could even respond, then flying into the air again.

When they approached the center of Metropolis, Clark slowed and eased down on the altitude. The many skyscrapers were approaching quickly—right in front of them, and Lana squirmed a bit, wondering what he was doing. "What? You don't trust me?" Clark laughed.

"Well, you're the one who said you needed more practice at this," Lana said, relieved that he wasn't worried.

Then at once, he turned, taking them toward Luthor Corp. "I thought you said we were going somewhere cool?" Lana asked, disappointed but trying to act supportive of what they had to do. But she really didn't want to get down to business tonight—well, not that kind of business.

"I only have one person on my mind right now, and it isn't Lex Luthor," Clark said, holding her more tightly and landing on the roof of the neighboring building to Luthor Corp—the Daily Planet.

"Ah, you're a tricky one," Lana said. "I can't believe you remembered."

Clark smiled as he nodded with enthusiasm—glad he was getting points for planning this. "Lana, I probably remember every word you've ever spoken in my presence." He kissed her, thinking back to the time they took a field trip to Metropolis their freshman year, and as they stood next to the Daily Planet building, Lana looked up and told Clark—not Whitney—that it was a dream of hers to star gaze from the top of it—where nothing would block her view of the galaxy—where it felt as though she were part of the sky itself.

And it was true, they were on the tallest building for hundreds of miles around, and all the city lights were below them. They walked to the edge and dared one another to look down. "I don't know why it's so much more frightening to do this, than to fly with you," Lana said. "I guess I trust you more than I trust the building."

Clark wrapped his arms around her from behind as they took a peek over the edge, looking down to the nearly empty streets that were usually packed with noisy vehicles. It was peaceful tonight—everything was peaceful.

"You know, one of the most frightening moments in my life was experienced right over here." He took her hand and led her to another spot on the roof, where they were across from the Luthor Corp building.

"What were you doing up here?" Lana asked, surprised that he'd never told her of anything that adventurous.

Clark swallowed hard, remembering the moment. "I was, uhh . . . jumping from this ledge . . . to that one," he pointed, and Lana's knees literally gave out. "But I didn't actually make it—I crashed through a window somewhere around there." He pointed again, and Lana buried her face against his chest.

"No amount of super-powered skills you have could've convinced me to let you do that," she said, clenching her hands to make the burning stop. Why was it that she even felt a desire to protect him from what happened in the past?

"Tell me about it!" Clark said. "But my mother was being held hostage in Lionel Luthor's office, so I was pretty motivated—despite my fear."

Lana looked up at him, putting both her hands on his face. "Clark Kent, you are by far the bravest person I've ever known," she said. "And with or without your abilities, I believe you would've tried to make that jump to save your mother."

"Thanks, Lana," was all Clark could say, putting his lips to a better use than talking about himself. It didn't take long after he started kissing her to remember that he'd brought a blanket along in his backpack. He suggested they walk back to where they'd landed, so they didn't have Luthor Corp to think about. He unzipped his backpack and pulled out a blanket that he hoped Chloe's roommate wouldn't mind them borrowing.

He spread it out, and they laid down flat on their backs to look up at the stars—which didn't last long, since they hadn't had nearly as much alone time as they'd wanted that day. Finally, they took an unwanted, but necessary break, and studied the sky again.

"Do you ever wish you could remember what Krypton was like?" Lana asked.

Clark had hoped she'd ask. They'd been talking about him so much lately that he wasn't sure if it was the right time to tell her what he now knew, but he was bursting to do so. "Actually, the thought of Krypton was attached to such resentment until just a few days ago, that I didn't really care what it was like," he said. "But learning what I did in the Fortress of Solitude has given me an entirely different feeling for it."

Lana propped up on her elbow so she could look at his face. "What did you learn? Can you tell me about it?"

"Yeah, I'd love to!" Clark said, thrilled to see such interest in her eyes.

Part 42:

Clark didn't know where to begin. He'd learned so much in the Fortress, but there were definitely things that stuck out in his mind as the most intriguing. "To start with—you know how I've always been the baby of the bunch—younger than you, Chloe and Pete," he said with a huge smile. "Well, I'm actually older than all of you. By quite a bit—I turned 20 this past February."

Lana grinned. "For some reason, that doesn't surprise me in the least. I always thought you looked older," she said. And so has everyone else, she thought. Clark had always towered above the other guys their age until high school when some of the others finally started to catch up. And he's always been more mature than everyone else. "And you found out your real birthday?"

"Yeah, it corresponds with February 29th, which here on Earth is Leap Day—so it looks like I won't be having many normal birthday parties—but then, I never really have," he said, laughing. It was bad enough that he never knew when his real birthday was, and now he only got to officially have one every four years. "How ironic is that?"

"Poor guy. But that means we'll just have to celebrate it twice on the years that it skips the 29th—we'll have a party on the 28th, and another on March 1st," she said.

"Don't forget about my other birthday in June," Clark said, mocking a reprimand. "Aren't you the one who said you wanted to celebrate the day I came into your life?"

Lana kissed him softly. "I celebrate that EVERY day, Clark," she said. "But yes, we'll have a party then too."

Clark was quite satisfied with that, knowing that Lana would make up for every birthday party his parents were afraid to let him have. "You know, I was only about one year old when I was sent to Earth in that ship—so it took me a while to get here. It must have been lonely—I wonder what I did all that time. I saw the inside of the ship—no Xbox or anything!"

"I wonder how you survived!" Lana said. "And I'm not talking about boredom, here. What did you eat and drink?"

"I've always wondered that too," he said, "until I leaned how advanced the technology was on Krypton. I'm not even sure I needed food—somehow, I was just sustained. From what I learned about Krypton, it seems like food might have been more for enjoyment, than nourishment."

"Very strange," Lana said. "But I have to admit, half the time I eat, it's because I like doing it, not because I'm starving."

Clark nodded. "Yeah me too—except for the starving part," he said. "My stomach is the one thing that can't possibly be Kryptonian. It's definitely not made of steel."

"Yeah, I'd have to agree with that—it's more like a black hole," Lana said. "But what about this technology? How much further advanced were they than us?"

"Light years—literally," Clark said, running his fingers through her hair. "When I learned the knowledge in the Fortress, it was like watching a movie—but it was from the point of view of someone else's memory that I saw everything. You see, the three stones I united turned out to act as what Kryptonians called 'thought projection discs,' which were what they used to record their life memories on."

"Like journals?" Lana asked.

"Yeah, kind of," he answered. "But much more detailed, again—like a movie of memories, only it included the person's thoughts as well. When the stones combined to form one crystal, the crystal created some sort of a projection system of past Kryptonians' knowledge where I could see everything in my mind as though I had experienced and learned it myself"

"That's amazing. So what did you learn from these memories?" Lana asked, finding it odd that this was something similar to what she was experiencing with Isobel.

He paused, trying to find the words to explain the images. "One of the coolest things I saw was that they could control most of the planet's weather—when they wanted it to rain, it did so," he said. "But it seemed they hadn't yet grasped the unpredictable nature of wind—and it was ferocious at times on Krypton. But during a horrible wind storm was when I witnessed one of the most amazing sites—Kryptonians could lower their skyscrapers into the ground to protect them from wind. Isn't that cool?"

"I'd say," Lana said. "I can't even imagine seeing a building like this one lowered into the ground."

"There's just no way to describe how awesome it looked," Clark said, getting more excited with each revelation. "But the people were so intelligent that this wasn't even the most complicated of things I saw. And every single individual was near perfect—both in intellect and physical features."

"Now, THAT I can believe," Lana said, looking Clark over. "You've finally convinced me that you're from Krypton."

Clark pulled Lana to him again, kissing her. "Then you must have arrived in your own little spaceship as well," he said, his lips still on hers. He'd never imagined that Lana would not only accept his origin, but embrace it as though it was entirely normal. "So, anyway," he said after a good break from talking. "I belonged to the House of El, who were the keepers of Kryptonian knowledge."

"Keepers? What do you mean?" Lana asked.

"My line of ancestors—now this isn't saying that I inherited all their qualities—but they were even more superior in intelligence than most others," Clark said, trying hard not to sound arrogant about it. "My father Jor-El was a scientist who invented some of the most advanced technology in Kryptonian history—including the spaceship I arrived in, which was a prototype that he could only hope would work and go where it was supposed to."

"A prototype?" Lana asked. "Umm, if you were the first to come by spaceship, how did the Kal-El from Isobel's memories get here?"

"I think some—and there were more than just him—actually flew, if you can believe it—" He shook his head, finding it hard to imagine himself ever being capable of flying through actual galaxies! "Then the caves in Smallville, and a few other select places around the world were developed as gateways between the two planets, making the trips much faster. The gateway was destroyed by a criminal named Klax-Ar, however, about the time I was born, who was also a scientist and jealous of my family's place in society. He was banished to outer space for that crime, among others. So when my father discovered that Krypton's inner core was so unstable, and the gateways would take decades to fix as they'd taken that long to make—he did his best to convince others that they had to plan for an evacuation of Krypton, but few believed him. To save as many as he could, he invented space pods to take to Earth. But things happened faster than he anticipated, and when the time came, he only had a prototype to use—and . . . "

"He used it to save his son," Lana said, helping Clark finish. He'd teared up—his voice failing—and Lana was in shock from it. He had also called Jor-El 'father' in a personal way for the first time, and Lana realized Clark's feelings for him were slowly changing. What else had Clark seen to change his opinion of both Jor-El and Krypton?

Part 43:

"It's true that one of the reasons he saved me was because I was his son," Clark said. "But there's more to it. As I said, the members of the House of El were the keepers of Kryptonian knowledge—which was embedded in the stones that were hidden in the far corners of the world. Apparently, the men of my ancestry had different roles in protecting this knowledge. Some projected their own knowledge and experiences upon them, some were sent to hide, or at times relocate them, and one was meant to unite them in the event that the knowledge of Krypton was in danger, or destroyed."

"You," Lana said, without a hint of question. "You were the one who was meant to unite them."

"That's what Jor-El says," Clark answered. "So he sent me off to fulfill my destiny—several years ahead of schedule, but he didn't really have a choice, did he?"

Lana shook her head with a forlorn expression. "But how did your father know that you were the one who was meant to unite the stones? You were only a baby."

"I asked that question as well, and to my surprise, Jor-El gave a straight answer. He said I was genetically created to take the role in our family—which I'll explain more about in a minute," Clark said, knowing it would be best to reveal that part a little later into their discussion. His experience in the Fortress had been different thanany other time he'd asked Jor-El for explanations. He'd received more answers in those three days than he ever imagined questions for. "But this was definitely the best experience I've had with Jor-El. And it only took three attempts at abduction to get me to that point."

Lana knew that Clark was trying to be lighthearted about it, but it was difficult to smile back at him. "Clark, I'm still in shock that Jor-el actually abducted you! I could never find the words to say how sorry I am that I jumped to so many flawed conclusions—thinking that you left Smallville by your own choice—all three times you went missing," she said, choking up a little. "I don't know how I would've reacted to knowing about your secret before now, but I still wish that I could've been there for you."

"You were, Lana," Clark said, touching the soft skin of her face. "You've been here for me many more times than I've deserved. Each time you've chosen to trust me again—to allow me back into your life—you've proven how much you truly love me."

She hoped he really felt that way, because it was true. No matter how difficult it had been to continue her faith in him, Lana's pure love for Clark always brought her back around. "The strange thing about relationships is, that there's really no way to explain why one person is attracted to another—whether in friendship or romance," she said. "And there's no scientific formula to measure how much a person is willing to endure to be with the one she loves." Lana was about to go on by saying that when she realized last March that they still couldn't be in the same room without her wanting to be in the safety of his arms, she knew she'd continue to run back to him as long as she lived—so what was the point in fighting it any longer?

But just as she was starting with that, Clark interjected with a very strange comment. "That's my theory on why Krypton failed as a civilization."

"What?" Lana asked, backtracking through what she'd said to bring about that random thought.

"I think they failed because they depended too much upon hard scientific proofs and not enough upon the mysteries of emotion," Clark answered, with a strong sense of conviction. "You see, they thought they had answers to EVERYTHING. And just as they lowered their skyscrapers into the ground to protect them from being damaged, they also shielded their people from any possibility of harm."

"Did everyone on Krypton have your same ability to withstand illness, or injury?" Lana asked.

"Illness, yes—because they'd altered genetics so much that a person's blood and tissue could fight off just about anything," Clark said. "But their bodies weren't unbreakable like mine is—that's somehow caused by the yellow sun we have here, just as my abilities are. However, it didn't matter if someone was injured, because their surgeons had healing rays that could fix even the most fatal of wounds. And if someone developed an emotional or mental illness—they could instantly fix that too. They seemed to have complete control over every aspect of their lives."

Lana tilted her head. "That sounds like a pretty ideal society to me. How could that be their downfall?"

Clark didn't have to think about it, he'd done enough of that already. "Because what's your biggest fear, Lana?"

She didn't have to hesitate either—the answer was second nature for her. "That everyone I love dies."

He nodded. "I'd guess that the death of someone we love is what the majority of people fear most," Clark said softly. "So, what if death only came when we wanted it too? What if all accidents and illnesses could be either prevented or fixed, without so much as a worry—would the fear of someone you loved dying still haunt you as it does?"

"No, of course not," Lana said, still not seeing the downside of that.

"Well, I'm convinced that it must work in reverse as well," he said. "If we had no fear of losing those we love, would we even develop love for them at all? Would we even know the emotions of love, or longing, or regret?"

"Probably not," Lana agreed, starting to express a shimmer of understanding now.

"If you traveled through life, following a smooth straight path of perfect control, would you ever have the opportunity to learn from mistakes, or overcome doubt in yourself?" Clark asked. "Because the citizens of Krypton didn't have to make many of their own decisions—they knew from downloading other's experiences what decisions were best, based on proven outcomes. 'Thought projection discs' became much more of a curse than they were a blessing. A generation or two after their invention—when people went to record their own life's memories on these discs, they were often just recording copied thoughts of another's experiences that they considered as their own."

Lana's mouth was half-open. "Wow. I can't imagine not being able to distinguish between what you learned for yourself, and what someone else learned FOR you."

"That's pretty crazy, isn't it?" Clark said, glad that Lana was now understanding where he was going. "In fact, you wouldn't believe how school worked—a kid would go to class, and their teacher would telepathically transfer her own knowledge of a subject to the student. There really wasn't a need for adult schooling, because by the time they reached that age, they knew just about everything they needed to—or so they thought."

"Or so they THOUGHT," Lana repeated. "So tell me what the reality was then."

"I'm getting there, let me tell you just a few more startling facts," Clark said, trying to get it all in without rushing. "Krypton was much larger than Earth, but though the civilization had existed for tens of thousands of years, its population still numbered in the low millions. Do you want to guess why?"

Part 44:

Lana looked completely perplexed. "I have no idea why Krypton's population would be so low. It doesn't make sense," she said. "They were able to stay healthy for as long as they wanted to, so why wouldn't the numbers rage out of control?"

"Good choice of words, Lana," he answered. "Because it was all about CONTROL. If they wanted a child, they had one. They could control the day it would be born, gender, weight, height, hair color, eye color, EVERYTHING." He laughed. "And apparently I was a very popular model in the House of El. I look just like Jor-El did when he was my age, and from what you've shared of Isobel's memories—I'm pretty much a clone of that dude too."

"Well, if I were to ever invent a model of mankind, I could definitely make millions selling guys with exactly your features," Lana said, returning the sudden joviality. "So I can't blame them for sticking with a damn good thing!"

Clark released a sigh. "Okay, that's not where I was trying to go with this, but thank you," he said, planting her with a firm kiss. "My point is that children weren't brought into a family because the couple wanted to become parents. They were created to serve a purpose within, well, what we'd call a family business. Therefore, they controlled positions in their society simply by ordering themselves a new baby with the like-minded qualities of someone else in the extended family who would be 'sent to rest' or sent to die, at about the same time the child would come of age."

"Shut up," Lana said, shocked. "What if the person of the older generation said, 'Hey, I'm not done living yet. I'll just retire.'"

"That choice wasn't up to them. When the time came, everyone said farewell . . . thanks for your contribution . . . and replaced them with the younger—even more genetically crafted, offspring of the family. Pretty strange way to control the population, right?" Clark could tell Lana was just as unimpressed with these ideas as he was, so he was quick to clarify something. "Now, just so you know, they weren't cold-hearted monsters—they were generally very kind, honest and dependable people, because they knew that anything other than those qualities would make them an outcast. It became instinctive to give respect and be obedient to your superiors, and to the law. So crime was extremely rare—and when it happened, I'm sure you can guess the consequences."

Lana had to think outside the bounds of normal for a few moments. "They 'fixed' the criminal?"

"Exactly," Clark said. "They didn't believe in capital punishment—a person was too valuable until they were of an age where they were no longer 'needed'. So they'd send a criminal off to outer space in a capsule for one hundred years to rehabilitate their mind." Clark knew about the Phantom Zone projector his father invented just before Krypton was destroyed, which took care of criminals in another fashion altogether, but it wasn't relevant to what he was trying to explain to Lana.

Lana arched a brow. "That gives solitary confinement a whole new edge."

"Yeah, it was probably pretty lonely for the three or so years I was on my own in the ship—wish I had a memory disc of that—it really would be funny to see what I did," Clark said, musing at the possibilities. "But anyway, about Kryptonians being unfeeling . . . something interesting happened in the House of El two generations before I came into it. My grandfather discovered an archaic type of what he considered a memory disc—similar to sheets of old-style parchment, and was able to translate the writing."

"And?" Lana asked when he paused, anxious to know what his grandfather discovered.

"Well, they were love letters from an ancestor of mine, to someone whose identity was never revealed," Clark said. "But her name wasn't important, what was important was that something in those letters implanted a seed of emotion in my grandfather and he secretly started altering the genetics of the House of El to further allow for it. So his own son, Jor-el, had a bit of emotion in him—a bit—mind you. And then my grandfather shared his secret with a few other fellow Kryptonians he respected, and these man did the same to their families—my mother Lara coming from one of them."

Lana smiled. "Your mother's name was Lara—the same as my mother's? That's amazing," she said. "So did your parents fall in love?"

Clark shrugged. "I guess you could call it that—it was definitely closer than others had come to it in a while—since emotion started to waver even more as the society became more scientifically perfect," he said. "But the coolest thing I discovered in all this, was that my mother actually told my father that she WANTED a baby of her own—as though she loved me before I was even born. Which, as I've expressed, wasn't normal for her generation."

Lana could tell that Clark was choked up again. "Have you ever spoken to your mother, Clark? Like you have to Jor-el?"

"No, but I've seen her," he answered with a gentle smile. "I have only one personal memory of Krypton, which was revealed to me when I was . . . well, at Summerholt for some experiments . . . and I saw both my parents sending me off in the ship. And then as I've experienced what was embedded in the stones—a lot of which is my father's own memories, I saw her several times. It was awesome."

He was freely crying now, and Lana had never seen that. She was so glad that he felt that comfortable around her. She touched his face, wiping away one tear at a time. "How is it that you can come from such an unattached race, yet you feel and care more than anyone else I've ever known?"

"I'm glad you think that way about me," Clark said. "And I have my real parents—Jonathan and Martha—to thank for that. Jor-El has been more than a little frustrated by the emotional alterations I've taken on from living with the Kents, trust me. He expected me to obey his every request to fulfill my destiny—like any member of the House of El would. He didn't anticipate that developing emotions from PERSONAL experience—as opposed to learning them from memory discs, or altering them into someone's genes—make a person stronger than anything genetics could ever dictate."

"The Kents are the most amazing people on Earth, you're so fortunate that they were the ones who found you," Lana said, marveling at the luck of that.

It was more than just fortune, it was planned that way, as he learned from Jor-El's experience in Smallville with Louise and Hyrum Kent. But that story was for later, Clark decided.

"Yeah, I couldn't have asked for better people to care for me," he said. "But let me wrap this up so we can get back to the fun stuff." He kissed her. "As I told you earlier, I think that the reason Krypton failed as not only a society, but as a planet as well, is because their emotions were so sterile that they felt untouchable. They were much too complacent with the fact that they could fix ANYTHING. So when my father discovered that Krypton's core was highly unstable just after I was born, he panicked—remember he had that alteration in his genes that allowed for more emotion than others—but very few people felt the instability of the core was a serious problem. In all the thousands of years of Kryptonian history, it hadn't caused any problems, had it? So they basically told Jor-El with flippancy, 'Well, then do your little science stuff, and fix it, don't bother me about it!' So he and some of my other family members, along with a few of Jor-El's acquaintances who also had the emotional alteration in them, warned everyone they could—said that there wasn't time to fix it, but that they might be able to escape the planet in time. But again—no emotional reaction whatsoever. People would just stare up at this big scientific clock they had, which told them exactly how old the planet was, and how long it would be around, and brush off my father's warnings. Again, there was no sense of fear, because they'd never experienced any sort of threat against their mortality. Soon, my father realized he was wasting his time trying to convince them, and had to start building space pods all on his own. There were better facilities and experts that could have managed the work load more quickly, but Jor-El couldn't get them to help—and then, it was too late."

"Or in other words, all the struggling, loss, and pain we experience as humans, gives us the emotional guts that we need to survive as not only a person, but as an entire race," Lana said, taking Clark's hand.

"Exactly," he answered.

Part 45:

Clark and Lana's eyes remained locked, both taking in the interesting aspects of the destruction of Krypton. "You've thought about this a lot, haven't you?" Lana asked Clark.

He nodded. "More than I wish I had to," he said. "But I think it's, well . . . part of my job to figure it all out."

"Do you mean, part of your destiny?" Lana whispered, not certain of what she wanted his answer to be.

"Yeah," Clark answered with a hint of regret. This was stuff he wasn't entirely ready to accept yet, so it was difficult to talk to Lana about it. "Since I've leaned of the knowledge the stones contained, I've had to consider why it was so important that the stones were hidden for so long—for me, of all people, to unite."

Lana swallowed. "And what conclusion have you come to?"

Clark could feel her hesitancy. "It's not really a conclusion yet, but I'll tell you the hunch I have—which I still haven't had the guts to confirm with Jor-El," he said, taking an unintended pause to draw in some air. "Over the many generations of the House of El, my ancestors came to Earth to encode more of their memories and knowledge into the stones—to both preserve and protect it. But as my grandfather and then my father started to see that Krypton's progress was possibly hurting their civilization more than it was helping, they knew the day would come when the stones would need to be reunited by someone who would use it in the right way, and not for their own personal benefit. Otherwise it would be better to not have them at all. But the stones couldn't be destroyed, and they also couldn't be combined by anyone who had encoded their own memories upon them."

"Enter Clark Kent," Lana tried to say matter-of-factly, when her insides were in truth burning with anxiety.

"Well, enter Kal-El, I guess," he said. "The guy who was supposed to have a lot more training than he had before he set off on his Earth-bound expedition."

"But why Earth?" Lana asked, knowing Clark had more to say, but she couldn't help but wonder. "Wasn't there any other . . . closer planets to hide the knowledge on?"

'Yeah, there was," he said. "But it was one of my ancestors who discovered the planet and he was quite fond of it since the Earth's yellow sun gave him unexpected powers. He thought that if the House of El was to have an advantage anywhere in the universe, it was here. So this is where the stones were sent—where we'd encounter very little struggle to protect them due to our physical dominion over its people."

Lana nodded. "That definitely makes sense," she said, finally finding the courage to ask what she wanted to. "But Clark, what are you meant to do with that knowledge now that you have it? How does this affect your destiny?"

Clark ran his hands down the length of her chilled arms. "Lana, I think I'm supposed to have this knowledge so I can protect the same awful fate from happening to Earth," he said. "One of the reasons I freaked out and ran away to Metropolis was because of a message from Jor-el that was stored in the ship I arrived in. He told me that the people of Earth were a weak race, and that I had to rule them with strength."

Lana put her hand over her mouth.

Clark couldn't help but smile. "Yep, that's exactly the reaction I had!" he said. "But after learning the knowledge of Krypton, I've come to interpret the message in a different way. I think he was trying to say that those on Earth—whose emotions were far more developed than Kryptonians, were therefore far more prone to greed and dominion. So in order to keep them from developing into the same failing civilization that Krypton was, he ordered me to both protect them from Krypton's scientific knowledge, as well as protect them from themselves. And I have an eerie feeling that people aren't always going to play nice."

"But what can you do about it?" Lana asked. "Jor-El can't expect you to strong-hold everyone into compliance."

"No, he can't," Clark agreed. "But having the limited experience he has with free will, I think that theory might've crossed his mind." Clark paused again, staring at the girl who he hoped would always consider him her hero. "Which means I'll have to write my own unique version of my destiny, won't I?"

Lana smiled warmly. "Can you write me into it?"

"I won't have to," he said, coming in closer. "You've always been the star of my story—it would be a very boring fairytale without a princess."

"You do have a way of rescuing me from tall towers, and fire-breathing dragons," Lana said, meeting Clark's lips. They kissed, pausing only long enough for Lana to pull back a bit and say, "Oh darn, I thought that kiss would turn you back into a frog, my dear prince."

"What? You don't have a spell for that?" Clark asked, bringing her closer into his arms.

"I guess not," Lana said. "But I'm sure I could whip up a wicked love potion if I tried."

They were back to the type of 'fun' Clark was looking forward to. "You can say that again!"

Two hours later, at three in the morning, Clark and Lana were finally back to Chloe's apartment. As they approached the front door, Lana said, "I think we should knock first."

"I don't want to wake her," Clark said. "You don't think she's in there with Jimmy do you? It's their first date in years."

Lana shrugged. "You never know."

Clark tipped his head in thought, but got lost in another dimension altogether when he noticed how beautiful Lana looked with her hair all tangled from flying—among other things. "You know, I've never kissed you at the doorstep."

She smiled, her heart leaping for a reason she couldn't place. They'd kissed so many times now that she expected to be over the rush, but it never faded. And especially not when Clark said something so sweet. "Trust me, I've noticed," she whispered.

Clark gave a soft, almost nervous smile. Though he'd moved far past the point of asking for permission, his pulse was racing fast enough to warrant it. For a moment, he felt like he was back on her Aunt Nell's porch in Smallville, when they were only freshmen. "Can I kiss you, Lana?" he asked, in a croak that suggested Lana may have indeed cast a frog spell on him.

Lana put her hands on Clark's broad shoulders, giving a breathless nod, and melting into him. It was a warm gentle kiss, much like their first.

When they leaned back in to finish what they'd started, the front door opened with a swift rush of air, and they were both reminded of Nell interrupting them the first time they'd almost entered their own corner of heaven.

"Give it a rest, will you?" Chloe asked with obvious contempt. "I've been worried sick!" She grabbed them both by the arms and pulled them in. "We've got a SERIOUS problem!"

"What is it?" they asked together.

"Lex and his thugs are searching Metropolis for us."

Part 46:

"How do you know Lex is searching for us in Metropolis?" Clark asked, putting a protective arm around Lana.

Chloe picked up her cell phone from the coffee table, dialed to retrieve her saved messages, then shoved it in front of Clark and Lana. They both leaned in to listen as Lex's cold voice said, "Chloe, you know who this is. And you know what I want. You've picked a bad time to go off the radar, dear friend, and I'm closing in on you. Metropolis tends to shrink when you're hiding two fugitives. So unless you return this call, you can tell both Clark and Lana that their little secrets are going to find their way into the public eye."

"I don't know why the freak he's pulled Lana into the secret stuff, but I don't think we should stick around and find out," Chloe said with an unintended shudder.

Clark looked down at Lana, trying to decipher her thoughts. "What do you think we should do?" he asked.

Lana's eyes were full of fear, starting to water. "Go forward with our plan," she said, trying to sound confident.

"Sorry, Lana, but our 'plan' isn't something we can just whip up with a magic wand," Chloe said, regretting her jab when she saw the hurt look on Lana's face. "I'm sorry, okay. I'm just really tired, and I was totally freaked out after I heard that message. I was afraid he'd already found you guys."

"It's all right," Lana said, putting her hand on Chloe's arm. "Thanks for worrying about us."

Clark stood there in stunned silence, confused about what to do next. "We need to get out of here—you too, Chloe," he said. "And I'm really sorry about that."

"But where do we go?" Lana asked, looking up at Clark.

He felt a stab in his gut for being the cause of so much fear and worry. He hoped that one day, his origin and abilities would be a blessing to his friends and parents, instead of causing so much trouble all the time.

When Clark didn't answer, Chloe said. "Good, I'm glad you don't have any immediate ideas, because I kind of already took care of it."

They both looked to her with hesitant smiles. "Why do you suddenly sound like the Chloe I know who did something she doesn't think I'll agree with?" Clark asked.

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Because, Clark," she said, walking off toward the bedroom. "You're not the only one with a destiny—I have a life to go on with, and I'd really like it if you two could enjoy it with me." She turned back and motioned for them to follow. "Get a move on, we have less than ten minutes to pack."

Clark swung his backpack off his shoulder, racing into the room to replace the borrowed blanket on the bed, scooping his clothes from the floor where he'd earlier dumped them, and standing back in front of the girls before they even knew he was gone. "Done!" he said.

Chloe wasn't in the mood for show-offs. "Good, then you can clean up the rest of this place while we pack the traditional way," she said. "My friend's a bit of a neat freak, so make it perfect, will ya?"

Clark had already finished cleaning and scrubbing , and was peeking out the window for suspicious activity by the time the girls walked out of the bedroom.

"Hey, I meant to ask you—where'd you get that bracelet?" Chloe said.

Lana smiled, looking across the room. "Clark gave it to me. I didn't expect you to notice it at dinner," she said. "You had another very charming distraction. How was your date, anyway?"

Just as Chloe was about to answer, Clark squinted through the window. "I think we have company."

Chloe asked, "Is it a Hummer?"

He whirled to face her. "Yeah."

"Good, he's right on time," Chloe said, glancing at the wall clock. "And you're right, Lana, he IS charming."

Clark put his hands on his hips. "Are you sure you want to get Jimmy involved in this, Chlo?"

She matched his stance, just to bug him. "Uhh, duh," she said. "Who was the one who set him up for it?"

He tilted his head with a frustrated sigh, wishing she wasn't so dang intuitive. "Okay, I'll admit it, but sometimes I do things before I really think about it, all right?"

"Sometimes?" Chloe asked sardonically, walking off to answer the door.

Lana stepped up to Clark, wrapping her arms around his waist. "You're quite sexy when you sulk, have I ever told you that?"

"Yes, you have in fact," he answered falsely. "That's why I do it so much."

"I thought so," she said with a smile. When she realized his own smile was false, she placed her hand on his cheek. "Clark, we're going to be all right."

He stared down at her, feeling his chest concave. "Shouldn't I be the one saying that to you? I've always been able to protect everyone else, and now I'm completely helpless."

"Clark, the most pain I've ever felt was from the absence of you in my life," she said. "That's all I care to be protected from."

Jimmy entered and just glanced at Clark and Lana before he smiled at Chloe and scooped up her luggage, heading down to the Hummer. She'd packed everything she brought to Metropolis—which was no small load.

"Thanks, Jimmy. We'll be right out," Chloe said. She then approached Clark and Lana, sure of what they were feeling right now. "Hey, guys. We're all in this together, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

Clark looked at her sideways, and for the first time, Chloe realized how depressed he was over the whole situation. She gave them a tight group hug, then pulled back and suddenly punched Clark's bicep. "You know what you need? A big bad meteor freak to beat the living crap out of! That would make you feel a whole lot better, wouldn't it?"

Clark returned her punch—very softly. "Oh, you're funny," he said. "Maybe we should head over to Belle Reeve—let out some of my favorite friends—and see how long it takes me to round them all up."

Lana shrugged. "It would definitely be entertaining," she said with a smile, surprised that her arms weren't burning from the thought of it. But meteor freaks were something she knew Clark could handle—aliens, or a crazed Lex Luthor who knows about Clark's weakness—that was different. "I could even dig up my old cheerleading outfit."

Clark was certainly smiling now. "Okay!"

Chloe snapped her fingers between their gazing faces. How could two people be so smitten that they suddenly seemed to have a never-ending sea of nothingness between their ears? "Time to go," she said.

With that, they made their way out to Jimmy's black Hummer and climbed in. "Is this your dad's too?" Clark asked.

"Technically, yes," Jimmy answered, leaving the parking lot. "But it's registered under another name—just like the place we're going to."

"And where exactly is that?" Clark asked. "I mean, I don't mean to sound unappreciative—because I really am grateful, but—"

"You mean you've never been whisked away by someone without knowing where they're taking you?" Jimmy asked with a laugh.

Clark couldn't help but smile at that ironic statement. "Not in the past few days, at least," he said.

"Well, it will take us about two hours to get there, but it's a well hidden estate of my family's near Granville," Jimmy answered. "And like I said, it has no paper ties whatsoever to my father, or his company. Everything is done by cash, and the security system is absolutely crazy! If you're going to be safe anywhere—it's there."

"Will you be staying with us?" Chloe asked, obviously attempting to hide her hope.

Jimmy moved his hand over to Chloe's and gripped it. "If it's all right."

"Sure it is," Clark said. "I can't thank you enough for all you're doing."

After they talked about the mysterious place for a few more minutes, Lana leaned against Clark, and faded out . . . to a mysterious world of her own.

Part 47:

Lana entered Isobel's memories exactly where she'd left off. Kal-El was standing by the lake with Marguerite cradled in his arms, who was crying from being scooped up so quickly.

Isobel's mouth was dry, and her heart pounded so hard it felt to be leaping from her chest. She at last found the strength to stand and go to them. Kal-El however, didn't dare move. This wasn't the first time someone had seen him use his powers. His gut told him to set Marguerite down, and super-speed away, never to make an appearance again—but his heart told him otherwise.

"I know that must've frightened you," Kal-El said. "I'm very sorry."

Isobel stepped up, taking a still screaming toddler from his arms and patting Marguerite on the back—soothing her the best she could while eyeing Kal-El in confusion. "There's certainly no reason to apologize—you saved my child's life," she said, attempting a smile, but her face was too tight from the shock of it all. "However, an explanation would be nice."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Kal-El said, trying to avoid her gaze. "My, umm, gifts haven't been too well received around here."

Isobel couldn't help but smile now, her previously rigid skin melting into softness. "Yes, I'd definitely say that anyone out of the ordinary is better off alone in the countryside," she said. "So you've come to the right place."

"You speak as though you're hiding out here for that very reason," Kal-El said, realizing he was being far too nosy, but she didn't seem to mind.

"Indeed I am," she answered, kneeling to the thick grass and keeping Marguerite in her lap.

Kal-El followed her lead, sitting across from Isobel so he could continue marveling at her face. "What happened?"

She saw his sincere concern, and it warmed her even further. No one had cared in so long, that it didn't make a difference that she'd known the man for only a couple of hours—she was going to tell him. "My mother and sisters are witches," she said matter-of-factly. "I had tried to hide my heritage by marrying a nice, well-respected Parisian aristocrat, but it wasn't long after my husband died that his protective ploys failed and the societal predators came calling."

"Societal predators?" he asked. He'd had little experience with humans, but didn't imagine them to eat their own.

"Witch hunters," Isobel answered, running her fingers through Marguerite's soft wispy hair, who was starting to drift off for an afternoon nap. "Those who feel it their life-calling to rid the world of anyone different from themselves."

"Are you . . . a witch?" he asked. Since he'd heard about such people shortly after arriving on Earth, he couldn't understand the reason for the overreacting. Many people on Krypton had unique talents. But there, it was not only accepted, but celebrated. "It's all right if you are—you've already seen that I have abilities others aren't exactly fond of."

"Yes, I have," she said. "And no I'm not a witch." She paused and waited for his reaction. When he didn't seem overly relieved, she decided to be completely honest with him. "Well, it's possible that I am—but my family believes I'm a bit of a dud, I guess—that I didn't inherit the dark abilities they have. But the truth is, I have no interest in it whatsoever, so even if I do have the core of witchcraft—I lack the passion to practice it."

Isobel was certain that she did indeed have the core of witchcraft within her. Though she'd never spoken of it, she had felt the signs—the burning of her arms, the occasional brewing of something in her chest—bubbling to get out. But still, she had fought it—fought it so hard that it was torturous at time. She knew, however, that allowing the magic to break free would cause herself and those she loved much more pain and agony.

Kal-El nodded. "Passion seems to be quite important to . . . well, your people—of France," he said, catching himself right before he said 'humans'.

Isobel tipped her head, feeling a strange sense of jealousy. "Apparently you've met a few of our ladies."

"Actually, a few too many," Kal-el answered, with a charming smile that sent shocks through Isobel. "But none so beautiful and kind as yourself."

Isobel was not the only one who was surprised by his sudden confession. They both turned away with reddened faces and began plucking blades of grass as if it was the appropriate reaction for such awkward silence.

Then all at once, they both spoke . . . then stopped, motioning for the other to continue. "I apologize for being so forward, it's just—" Kal-El started again, but he only finished by exhaling a deep breath.

"It's been a very long time since someone told me I was beautiful—not since my husband and I were courting, five years ago," she said, feeling a familiar emptiness within her. "But such sentiments changed after we married." Isobel looked away again, having not admitted that to anyone and wondering what force possessed her to do it now.

"How could that be possible?" he asked in awe, knowing he hadn't been a mere moment in her presence without wanting to speak of her beauty . . . and even to kiss her, though he'd never before felt that urge. "It's in my nature to be honest, but even if it wasn't, I could've never resisted my desire to tell you that you're the most breathtaking woman I've ever seen."

Isobel shook her head slowly, a knot of emotion creeping through her that she tried to swallow down. "How could you feel such things? You've known me for mere hours."

"Yes, and it took a far shorter time than that for me to feel so," said Kal-El, wanting to reach out to her but not having the nerve.

Lana didn't wake until Clark was already carrying her through the cool night breeze, toward a large wooden door. "Ahh, you woke me right during the good part," she whispered with a genuine smile of bliss—the same emotion she'd been feeling right along with Isobel.

Clark stroked her hair. "Then go back to sleep—I'm just taking you to your bed."

She closed her eyes again, nestling up to Clark. Jimmy showed them through darkened rooms that Clark couldn't resist using his x-ray vision to check out—and they were amazing. He couldn't wait to explore in the morning.

They eventually reached a large room with a king-sized bed in it, covered in a soft feathered duvet. He pulled back the covers and carefully placed Lana under them, kissing her cheek.

"Your room's just across the hall—but I'm not saying you have to stay there," Jimmy said, closing the door as he left.

Clark sat on the edge of the bed, not wanting to wake Lana if she'd drifted off again. There was a soft streak of moonlight coming through the window and dowsing her with a blanket of blue light. He stood after a few minutes of fighting the temptation to lie next to her.

Lana rolled over and grabbed his hand just as he was walking off. "Please don't leave," she said.

Part 48:

Clark kept hold of Lana's hand and sat back on the edge of the bed. "I thought you said you were anxious to get back to your dream," he said.

Lana smiled, the moonlight still making her glow. "I think that Kal-El and Isobel may have been more than casual barn-burning acquaintances."

"What do you mean?" Clark asked.

Lana told him about her latest vision, and Clark found it both endearing and disturbing at the same time. "Not that I want you to start sleeping all day, but these dreams of yours are already helping me put some puzzle pieces together," he said. "And don't you find it interesting that three generations of our families somehow found one another?"

"Three?" she asked, not having a clue what he was talking about. "Isobel and Kal-El, you and me, and . . . "

"Louise and Jor-El," Clark said, just realizing that he hadn't yet told her about the relic he'd found with his father's memories—something he now realized acted as a thought projection disc.

Lana's eyes became wide. "The drifter was your father?" she asked in awe. "I guess that's why the sketch in the paper looked so much like you. I mean, I'd mentioned that possibility, but put it entirely out of my mind."

Clark brought her hand to his lips. "So why is it that three generations of our family members have somehow found one another?" he asked. "Gives the idea of us being meant to be together a whole new dimension, doesn't it?"

Lana nodded, sitting up and snuggling under his arm. "I didn't need two generations of ancestors to convince me of that," she said, kissing his cheek. "But you're right, I can't help but wonder if there's more to us being raised in the same small farm town than a little bit of luck."

"Well, I don't care how or why we met," Clark said. "I'm just glad it happened."

"Me too," she said. "And hopefully Isobel's memories will shed a bit more light on the mysteries that we have an uncanny knack of uncovering together."

Clark stayed just a few minutes longer before heading across the hall to his room. And Lana drifted peacefully back to sleep, where she found Kal-El's beautiful eyes staring back at her.

Isobel knew she should stand and excuse a man who dared be so bold with his words, just as she'd done so many times when she was younger. But with her added years, came added experience, and she knew a good, gentle man when she saw one—which wasn't often. And she also knew a heart-stopping handsome man when she saw one—which happened even fewer times.

She started fanning herself with a hand. "Goodness, I better get Marguerite out of this hot sun," she said, making a motion to stand.

Kal-El took the sleeping babe from her arms. "I'll carry her, if you don't mind," he said. "She's beautiful, just like her mother."

Isobel smiled as they walked back toward the manor, thinking as she had many times, that it would be nice for Marguerite to have a father—but not the one she would have had. It was almost better that she was born after Isobel's husband died—he was completely void of an affection for children, though he'd convinced Isobel of the opposite before they married.

Though Isobel could've taken Marguerite from Kal-El when they entered the kitchen, she instead motioned for him to follow her through the living area and back toward the bedrooms, where he carefully laid Marguerite down and covered her with a light blanket. Isobel gave him a look of intrigue, which he couldn't help but notice.

When they stepped out of the room, making their way down the hall, Kal-El asked, "What were you thinking back there?"

Isobel stopped walking and faced him in the narrow hallway—their bodies less than a foot apart. "That's none of your affair," she said, trying to force a stern face, but failing miserably.

"It's certainly my affair if the thought was about me," he said, backed up against the wall and telling himself to stay there—as much as he wished to do otherwise—to be against her, which was entirely out of the question.

Now that was just plain arrogant, she thought. Irritating really, if he hadn't looked so delightfully yummy when he'd said it. There felt to be a current of shocks between the small space that separated them. And all she wanted to do was fill it—with herself. "And, why, may I ask do you think my thoughts had anything to do with you?"

Kal-El gave a half-grin. "Because when you looked at me, your heart rate sped up."

"My heart sped up? How would you know that?" Isobel asked with a smirk that made Kal-El give in to reckless abandon—something he never would've done on Krypton.

He put one hand on the wall just above Isobel's shoulder, leaning closer. "I can hear quite well when I try—and I was trying."

Isobel didn't know if he was serious or not, but she really didn't care. It was the flirting that was sending her over the moon as chills shot through her. "And WHY were you trying to hear my heartbeat?"

"I'll tell you, if you tell me what you were thinking," he said, taking in a breath of her that made his legs of steel go completely weak.

"Agreed," she said, just audible.

"I was listening to your heart because I wanted to know if you were scared of me, or if you were feeling something else entirely different than fear," he said.

Isobel tipped her head, wishing she could think of an intelligent explanation for her racing pulse, but her mind seemed to have run out of rational thoughts the moment she saw him in her barn. "Alright . . . I was wondering if you had a family of your own—you seemed to have put children to bed a few times before." She flushed, wishing her voice hadn't sounded so desperate for the answer she craved.

"Yes I do," he said, smiling at Isobel's crestfallen face. "A father and mother, and several more very controlling family members who feel nothing is more important than duty and obedience . . . "

Isobel nodded, noting a faint tinge of resentment in his voice. She moved a trembling hand to his face, where her fingers traced the curve of his cheekbone and jaw. "It sounds as though they're rough on you," she said, trying to hide her relief that he didn't have a wife and children of his own. "You're, uhh, welcome to stay in my guesthouse rather than in the barn, if you'd like."

"Thank you," he said, breathless from her touch. "But I like your hayloft—there's something comforting about it."

"Very well," she said, tipping her head up so he'd take her hint. "The hayloft is all yours—the sunsets are gorgeous from up there."

"Gorgeous compared to what?" Kal-El asked, wanting more than anything to follow through with what she was offering him by coming closer—but still not daring after their short time together. "Because I've already seen the most alluring scene on this planet, and sunsets couldn't hope to compare."

Isobel pushed him back against the wall and was all over him before he even had a chance to take another breath. They kissed like they'd been doing so for years, though Kal-El had never even come close to such intimacy, and Isobel had never truly enjoyed a single kiss in her lifetime.

Lana was awakened in the morning by a terrifying noise, a familiar one that would haunt her forever. She was sitting straight up in bed, her heart racing on account of two different stimuli, when Clark super-sped to her side, knowing the arrival of the helicopter would bring back horrible memories of the crash she almost lost her life in.

Part 49:

"It's okay, Lana," Clark said, wrapping his arms around her. "It's only a Daily Planet helicopter." He'd already used his x-ray vision to check out who was in the chopper, and the guy—including the contents he brought along, looked far from threatening.

"Who is it?" she asked, trying to convince her pulse to slow down.

Clark shrugged. "I'm not sure, but he brought food—so I'm putting him in the friend column."

They walked hand in hand down the hallway, almost forgetting about the helicopter as they gawked at their new hideaway. "Talk about posh," Lana said. "Is there any way we can stay here forever?"

Clark scooped up Lana and tossed her onto an extra wide sectional couch, which was as comfy as a giant marshmallow. "Forever sounds good—real good," he said, bouncing next to her and resting his head on her lap as he looked up at her. "You dreamt about Kal-El and Isobel again, didn't you?"

"How'd you guess?" she asked, running her fingers through his messy morning hair, which she couldn't help but love just as much as his normal style—maybe even more.

He was thinking the exact same thing about her. "I don't know—you get this funny look in your eyes, like you're looking at me—but not really at ME," he said. "You know, like you see me as Kal-El for a few minutes."

He was surprised when Lana actually nodded her head, admitting it. "I guess I do—especially after a vision like the last one, where I wouldn't mind if the two of us actually WERE Kal-El and Isobel," Lana said.

"For some reason, I never imagined you saying that," Clark said with a smile.

"And I never imagined I'd see what I just saw," she said, going on to explain all the delicious details of her dream. She ended with, "Seriously, it was hot!"

Clark arched a brow. "Is he as good of a kisser as I am?" he asked.

Lana wasn't sure how to answer that question, so she explained as best she could. "It's not like I'm in Isobel's body when I experience her memories—I just feel her emotions, and know her thoughts," she said. "And even though it was a little strange at first to see him with Isobel—because he looks just like you, I had to remind myself that Isobel and I look quite a bit a like as well. So with that in mind, I just started to enjoy the show."

"Well, that dude and I definitely don't have the same personality," Clark said. "It took me years to gather the courage to kiss you. And he managed it in a couple of hours."

"Yeah, but like I said, she didn't really give him a choice," Lana said with a grin.

Clark couldn't help but have an interesting picture come to mind. "Then I give you my permission to throw me up against any wall you choose—at any time."

"My, my, you two are quite the passionate ones, aren't you?" asked a man's hearty voice from the opposite side of the couch.

Lana turned, and Clark sat up, both with beet red faces.

The man bellowed with robust laughter. "Little early in the day for such talk," he said, stepping closer and looking down on them. "Did Jimmy forget to mention that we have more than a dozen bedrooms in this place? We usually use the couch for entertaining guests—but not the type of entertainment you two were suggesting."

Both Clark and Lana's mouths were completely hung open from the man's barefaced comments. Who dared say those things to someone he didn't even know?

The man was thinking the very same thing—he should introduce himself. Sticking out his long lanky arm, he said. "The name's Barry Olsen, I'm Jimmy's dad."

Clark stood at once to shake his hand, completely mortified for not showing him more respect. "Clark Kent, sir," he said. "And you're more than just 'Jimmy's dad.' I had an entire business unit in school about your empire."

Mr. Olsen had the personality of a silly school girl, who just couldn't stop giggling at every single comment that was made—no matter the content. "What? Your teacher ran out of trash to dish out about Luthor Corp? You know, we have a saying in my board room about our favorite fertilizer giant—'If it stinks and it's full of crap, it must be a Luthor!'" He doubled over from his own joke, but Clark and Lana—as much as they found it amusing, as well as true—could only smile in uncomfortable amazement.

"That's enough, Dad," Jimmy said, entering the room with splotchy red cheeks. "Sorry, guys, I should've warned you about him." Jimmy put his arm around his still laughing father, grinning as though he was kidding, but Clark and Lana weren't so sure.

"Oh, we've had a nice little chat," Lana said, standing to join them now that her legs were a little more stable from the shock of the scene. "Didn't we?"

"Yes indeed, yes indeed," said Mr. Olsen, grabbling Lana's hand and shaking it so vigorously that her whole body bounced around. This guy wasn't just a barrel of monkeys—he was an entire zoo. Hyenas included.

Mr. Olsen turned his attention back to Jimmy. "Where's that super-star reporter of yours?" he asked. "I'm dying to meet her at last!"

"She's overseeing the unloading of the helicopter—" Jimmy started to explain.

Mr. Olsen's smile disappeared—making him look like an entirely different person. "Shame on you, son. If she's carrying a single box of Twinkies—"

"No worries, Pop," Jimmy said, waving for everyone to follow him. "Your 'super-star' reporter's typing fingers will be perfectly intact for her next big scoop!"

When they entered the massive kitchen, Chloe was directing two men—still wearing helicopter headsets, where to put food-stuffed boxes. "Oh, hey," she said, turning around with her darling Sullivan smile, and nervously fixing her hair . . . then smoothing the wrinkled shirt she'd slept in.

Mr. Olsen made a beeline to her. "What a pleasure!" he said, his grin so wide his thin cheeks disappeared all together. Chloe held out her hand but Mr. Olsen ignored it—giving her a gigantic bear hug. "Welcome to the family!"

Jimmy's hand flew to his face and he turned away, shaking his head and mumbling something.

"The Daily Planet family, that is," Mr. Olsen said. "Though I wouldn't mind if—" he'd just noticed Jimmy's reaction, and cleared his throat. "Well, anyway, when Jimmy told me you three needed a safe haven, I was more than happy to provide one. That's why we built this place, after all! Wouldn't be any fun if we didn't use it for something dangerously covert, now would it?"

Everyone shook their heads—including Mr. Olsen. Clark eyed Chloe suspiciously though—what exactly had she told the Olsen men about their purpose for being there?

Since Chloe could read Clark like a front page news story, she said, "Thanks, Mr. Olsen. I'm sure Jimmy told you how we're all in a bit of trouble because we reported the stolen goods from China that Lex had in his safe."

"That dirty, no good . . . " Mr. Olsen's smile had disappeared again, and his face reddened as he spouted insults about Lex and his just as rotten father, Lionel. "They're half-demon—mark my word—the Inquisitor will do an article on it one day!"

Everyone laughed . . . then kind of looked around at each other like they, again, weren't sure how serious to take the comment. "I've told my father that you aren't in need of the typical type of protection," Jimmy said. "And he's offered to help in any way he can—man power, funding—whatever you ask for."

Clark and Lana's eyes widened as they smiled, neither having any words besides a genuine, "Thank you!" And Chloe was grinning as though she'd just won the Pulitzer Prize.

Part 50:

Mr. Olsen gave a loud clap of his hands, then rubbed them back and forth like he wanted to get down to business. "First things first—I need to find myself an apron," he said, walking behind the enormous granite countertop, and starting to pull out drawers. "Who wants waffles?"

There was a chorus of approval, then Jimmy joined his dad, searching through cupboards. "Maybe we should make sure we have a waffle iron first," Jimmy said. "It's been a while since we've been here."

"Of course we have a waffle iron," Mr. Olsen said, sounding as though Jimmy had completely lost his mind. "Dear heavens, boy, have I not taught you anything?"

"Oh, yes—how'd I forget—waffles are an essential food group all of their own," Jimmy said with a smile, at last finding the waffle iron and holding it up like it was a rare gem—to be worshiped and adored.

"Splendid!" Mr. Olsen cried, tying a white lacy apron around himself. The onlookers had to turn away so he wouldn't see their obvious amusement. "Chloe, dear—I'll put you in charge of the iron." She stepped over, and by the time he was finished explaining the importance of the right shade of brown, and the correct amount of steam—she was terrified of messing up.

Mr. Olsen went down the line of helpers, giving them each 'critical' assignments for breakfast. Talk about micromanaging, Clark thought with a grin. But this guy was legendary for whipping up much more than a mean slab of waffles—so he thought he'd just watch and learn from the master—that was until Clark was given the task of setting the table.

"Uhh, wouldn't one of the girls be better at that?" he asked, while being shown how to properly fold the napkins into fans and put them in wine glasses.

Mr. Olsen shook his head, appearing to be in pain. "Kent, Kent—really, how do you expect to ever understand women unless you get in touch with your feminine side?" he asked with all the seriousness of a psychologist. He then handed Clark the remaining pile of napkins, gave him a sturdy pat on the back, then went back behind the counter.

Lana moved her chopping board, knife, fruit, and platter closer to Clark so they could talk as they did their respective jobs. Mr. Olsen kept Chloe and Jimmy's half-attention as he lectured them on the intricate art of mixing batter.

As Lana peeled and chopped, Clark set out the plates and silverware—procrastinating the most delicate part until the end. He threw down a napkin after his forth attempt at 'fanning it just right.' "Stupid thing," he whispered, looking to Lana with exasperation. "I can lift a dump truck, fly half-way around the world, and start a bonfire with my eyes—but NAPKINS completely stump me!"

Stepping over to the table, Lana pretended to take pity on him. "Okay, sweetheart, just take a deep breath," she said calmly, putting the napkin back in his hands. "As Mr. Olsen said, it's very important to get in touch with your feminine side."

Clark gave her one of his crooked smirks. "Lana, if I HAD a feminine side, I'd do everything possible to HIDE it."

Lana snuck a peek over her shoulder to make sure Mr. Olsen wasn't watching, then secretly started folding the napkins. "Can you handle carrying them over to each glass and putting them in there without making a mess of them?" she whispered.

He was more than happy to try. "Nothing like some good old-fashioned napkin smuggling."

"Yes, that's me," Lana said. "Queen of the table-setting black market."

"I always knew there was more to you than meets the eye," Clark said, coming back for another napkin and pretending to fold it with a pleasant smile when Mr. Olsen glanced over. "Hey, I think I'm a natural at this," Clark called over to him with a proud nod.

Lana rolled her eyes, trying not to lose it. "Now, maybe you should tutor ME on lifting dump trucks."

"It's all in the legs," he said, coming behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. "Just be careful not to strain your back."

She tipped her head and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "It's much the same with fanning napkins," she said. "Except that it looked like you were straining much more than your back—poor guy."

When they were all finally sitting around the table, taking in the fresh warm scent of waffles, fresh syrup, and melted butter, Clark's face fell when he saw everyone grab for their napkins and toss them in their laps. "Okay, no one even stopped to appreciate the fine job I did at fanning those napkins—so what's the point?"

Mr. Olsen didn't hesitate. "The point, my boy, is in the presentation," he said. "Do you think a chef says to himself, 'Oh, what's the use in making the meal look nice? It's going to be chewed up anyway?' Not on your life! And besides, I wanted to see how long it took you to humble yourself enough to ask your girlfriend for help." He gave a knowing smile, as though he was the cleverest man on the whole freakin' planet.

Clark and Lana looked at one another with guilty smiles. "Umm, well . . . actually, Lana kind of takes care of all the feminine issues in our relationship," Clark said. "About as close as I get to stuff like that is moving furniture."

"Are you telling me that you're all muscles and no heart?" asked Mr. Olsen, using his usual amount of tact.

Lana shook her head. "No, no, you've got him all wrong," she said. "He really is a very sensitive guy. I wouldn't want him to be any different than he is."

Clark beamed, squeezing Lana's hand.

"Sensitive, you say? Has he ever written you a poem?" Mr. Olsen asked straight faced, as he worked on a mouthful of waffles.

Clark started choking. "Uhh—"

Chloe was having the time of her life watching Clark get drilled like this. Like she'd told him before, he had to get over his naïve little farm boy routine and kick it up a notch in the romance department.

"I didn't think so," said Mr. Olsen, with an obvious tone of discontent. "Well, here's your chance then—tell your Juliet just how you feel. Give us a line or two."

"Of poetry?" Clark asked, gulping. "Here? In front of everyone?"

"You have to learn to think on your toes if you're going to really please the ladies, Kent," Mr. Olsen said. "Now, let's hear it."

Lana whispered, "You don't have to—" but Clark didn't even notice, he wanted to get it over with.

And so, out came the most horrible attempt at poetry known to mankind—human or otherwise. "Lana, Lana, why oh why . . . did you kiss another boy, and make me cry?"

Mingled among the hysterical laughter, Clark heard, "Nice one, Clark," coming from Lana as she slapped his leg with the back of her hand. "Maybe you could tell them something REALLY embarrassing about me now."

**END OF PART ONE  PART TWO IS ALSO POSTED ON I WOULD REALLY APPRECIATE READERS LEAVING COMMENTS ON BOTH PARTS OF THE STORY. THANK YOU SO MUCH! I HOPE YOU ARE ENJOYING MY VERSION OF CLANA! ajfinn Feel free to email me at **


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